Catch Me if You Can

Frank Abagnale
Frank Abagnale, alias Frank Williams, alias Robert Conrad, Frank Adams, and Robert Monjo,
was one of t he most hunt ed con men, fraudulent check writ ers, mast er forgers in hist oryand
t he worlds great est impost or. Ersat z airline pilot , assist ant st at e at t orney, pediat rician, college
professor, FBI agent , Abagnale was known by t he police of t went y-six foreign count ries and all
fift y st at es as The Skywayman.
At sixt een, Abagnale dropped out of high school and left home t o become an airline pilot
his lifes dream. By convert ing an ordinary ID int o an airline ID, donning a uniform purchased by
ruse from a New York manufact urer, and count erfeit ing a pilot s license, Abagnale found his
way int o Pan Am. Wit h st udy and discreet inquiries, Abagnale picked up airline jargon and
discovered t hat pilot s could ride free anywhere in t he world on any airline; and t hat hot els billed
airlines direct and cashed checks issued by airline companies. During t he five years Abagnale
was t o fly for Pan Am, he bilked t he company for a small fort une in cash, t raveled several
hundred t housand miles at it s expense, and nearly drove t he public affairs people berserk.
Hiding out in a sout hern cit y, Abagnale learned t hat t he st at e at t orney general was seeking
assist ant s. Wit h a forged Harvard Law t ranscript and four mont hs of st udy, Abagnale passed
t he bar on t he t hird t ry and succeeded in being hiredat a salary of $12,800. For nine mont hs
he pract iced law, but when a real Harvard lawyer appeared on t he scene, Abagnale figured it
was t ime t o move on.
Abagnale fell int o and out of ot her professions, unt il, unexpect edly, his ident it y was exposed
and he was t hrown int o one of t he most not orious prisons in France. Abagnale spent t he next
four years in various jails and, aft er a series of escapes, resigned himself t o t he fact t hat he
had been caught for good.
I was always aware of who I was in realit y. My post ures were always for purposes of
monet ary gain. But it would be wrong t o say it was only for money. Money was just a part of it . I
did have fun fooling people. It was excit ing and at t imes glamorous, and I became so good at
what I was doing t hat it just became nat ural for me t o assume an ident it y ot her t han my own.
But it wasnt all act ing and I was always aware t hat if and when I was caught , I wasnt going t o
win any Oscars. I was going t o prison.
Catch Me If You Can
Frank W. Abagnale, Jr.
wit h St an Redding
GROSSET & DUNLAP
A FILMWAYS COMPANY
Publishers New York
This book is based on t he t rue-life exploit s of Frank Abagnale. To prot ect t he right s of t hose
whose pat hs have crossed t he aut hors, all of t he charact ers and some of t he event s have
been alt ered, and all names, dat es, and places have been changed.
Copyright 1980 by Frank W. Abagnale, Jr.
All right s reserved
Published simult aneously in Canada
Library of Congress cat alog card number: 79-91619
ISBN 0-448-16538-4
Fift h print ing 1980
Print ed in t he Unit ed St at es of America
To my dad
CONTENTS
1 The Fledgling
2 The Pilot
3 Fly a Crooked Sky
4 If Im a Kid Doct or, Wheres My Jar of Lollipops?
5 A Law Degree Is Just an Illegal Technicalit y
6 Paperhanger in a Rolls-Royce
7 How t o Tour Europe on a Felony a Day
8 A Small Crew Will DoIt 's Just a Paper Airplane
9 Does This Tab Include t he Tip?
10 Put Out an APBFrank Abagnale Has Escaped!
Epilogue
Back Cover/Phot ographs
Catch Me If You Can
CHAPTER ONE
The Fledgling
A mans alt er ego is not hing more t han his favorit e image of himself. The mirror in my room in
t he Windsor Hot el in Paris reflect ed my favorit e image of mea darkly handsome young airline
pilot , smoot h-skinned, bull-shouldered and immaculat ely groomed. Modest y is not one of my
virt ues. At t he t ime, virt ue was not one of my virt ues.
Sat isfied wit h my appearance, I picked up my bag, left t he room and t wo minut es lat er was
st anding in front of t he cashiers cage.
Good morning, Capt ain, said t he cashier in warm t ones. The markings on my uniform
ident ified me as a first officer, a co-pilot , but t he French are like t hat . They t end t o
overest imat e everyt hing save t heir women, wine and art .
I signed t he hot el bill she slid across t he count er, st art ed t o t urn away, t hen wheeled back,
t aking a payroll check from t he inside pocket of my jacket . Oh, can you cash t his for me? Your
Paris night life nearly wiped me out and it ll be anot her week before Im home. I smiled ruefully.
She picked up t he Pan American World Airways check and looked at t he amount . Im sure
we can, Capt ain, but I must get t he manager t o approve a check t his large, she said. She
st epped int o an office behind her and was back in a moment , displaying a pleased smile. She
handed me t he check t o endorse.
I assume you want American dollars? she asked, and wit hout wait ing for my reply count ed
out $786.73 in Yankee currency and coin. I pushed back t wo $50 bills. I would appreciat e it if
you would t ake care of t he necessary people, since I was so careless, I said, smiling.
She beamed. Of course, Capt ain. You are very kind, she said. Have a safe flight and
please come back t o see us.
I t ook a cab t o Orly, inst ruct ing t he driver t o let me off at t he TWA ent rance. I by-passed t he
TWA t icket count er in t he lobby and present ed my FAA license and Pan Am ID card t o t he
TWA operat ions officer. He checked his manifest . Okay, First Officer Frank Williams,
deadheading t o Rome. Got cha. Fill t his out , please. He handed me t he familiar pink form for
nonrevenue passengers and I penned in t he pert inent dat a. I picked up my bag and walked t o
t he cust oms gat e marked CREW MEMBERS ONLY. I st art ed t o heft my bag t o t he count er
t op but t he inspect or, a wizened old man wit h a wispy must ache, recognized me and waved
me t hrough.
A young boy fell in beside me as I walked t o t he plane, gazing wit h unabashed admirat ion at
my uniform wit h it s burnished gold st ripes and ot her adornment s.
You t he pilot ? he asked. He was English from his accent .
Nah, just a passenger like you, I replied. I fly for Pan Am.
You fly 707s?
I shook my head. Used t o, I said. Right now Im on DC-8s. I like kids. This one reminded me
of myself a few years past .
An at t ract ive blond st ewardess met me as I st epped aboard and helped me t o st ow my gear
in t he crews luggage bin. Weve got a full load t his t rip Mr. Williams, she said. You beat out
t wo ot her guys for t he jump seat . Ill be serving t he cabin.
Just milk for me, I said. And dont worry about t hat if you get busy. Hit chhikers arent
ent it led t o anyt hing more t han t he ride.
I ducked int o t he cabin. The pilot , co-pilot and flight engineer were making t heir pre-t akeoff
equipment and inst rument check but t hey paused court eously at my ent rance. Hi, Frank
Williams, Pan Am, and dont let me int errupt you, I said.
Gary Giles, said t he pilot , st icking out his hand. He nodded t oward t he ot her t wo men. Bill
Aust in, number t wo, and Jim Wright . Good t o have you wit h us. I shook hands wit h t he ot her
t wo airmen and dropped int o t he jump seat , leaving t hem t o t heir work.
We were airborne wit hin t went y minut es. Giles t ook t he 707 up t o 30,000 feet , checked his
inst rument s, cleared wit h t he Orly t ower and t hen uncoiled himself from his seat . He appraised
me wit h casual t horoughness and t hen indicat ed his chair. Why dont you fly t his bird for a
while, Frank, he said. Ill go back and mingle wit h t he paying passengers.
His offer was a court esy gest ure somet imes accorded a deadheading pilot from a compet ing
airline. I dropped my cap on t he cabin floor and slid int o t he command seat , very much aware
t hat I had been handed cust ody of 140 lives, my own included. Aust in, who had t aken t he
cont rols when Giles vacat ed his seat , surrendered t hem t o me. You got it , Capt ain, he said,
grinning.
I prompt ly put t he giant jet on aut omat ic pilot and hoped t o hell t he gadget worked, because
I couldnt fly a kit e.
I wasnt a Pan Am pilot or any ot her kind of pilot . I was an impost or, one of t he most want ed
criminals on four cont inent s, and at t he moment I was doing my t hing, put t ing a super hype on
some nice people.
I was a millionaire t wice over and half again before I was t went y-one. I st ole every nickel of it
and blew t he bulk of t he bundle on fine t hreads, gourmet foods, luxurious lodgings, fant ast ic
foxes, fine wheels and ot her sensual goodies. I part ied in every capit al in Europe, basked on all
t he famous beaches and good-t imed it in Sout h America, t he Sout h Seas, t he Orient and t he
more palat able port ions of Africa.
It wasnt alt oget her a relaxing life. I didnt exact ly keep my finger on t he panic but t on, but I
put a lot of mileage on my running shoes. I made a lot of exit s t hrough side doors, down fire
escapes or over rooft ops. I abandoned more wardrobes in t he course of five years t han most
men acquire in a lifet ime. I was slipperier t han a but t ered escargot.
Oddly enough, I never felt like a criminal. I was one, of course, and I was aware of t he fact . Ive
been described by aut horit ies and news report ers as one of t his cent urys cleverest bum-
check passers, flimflam art ist s and crooks, a con man of Academy Award caliber. I was a
swindler and poseur of ast onishing abilit y. I somet imes ast onished myself wit h some of my
impersonat ions and shenanigans, but I never at any t ime deluded myself. I was always aware
t hat I was Frank Abagnale, Jr., t hat I was a check swindler and a faker, and if and when I were
caught I wasnt going t o win any Oscars. I was going t o jail.
I was right , t oo. I did t ime in a French poky, served a st int in a Swedish slammer and cleansed
myself of all my American sins in t he Pet ersburg, Virginia, federal jug. While in t he last prison, I
volunt arily subject ed myself t o a psychological evaluat ion by a Universit y of Virginia
criminologist -psychiat rist . He spent t wo years giving me various writ t en and oral t est s, using
t rut h-serum inject ions and polygraph examinat ions on various occasions.
The shrink concluded t hat I had a very low criminal t hreshold. In ot her words, I had no
business being a crook in t he first place.
One of t he New York cops whod worked hardest t o cat ch me read t he report and snort ed.
This head doct ors got t a be kiddin us, he scoffed. This phony rips off several hundred banks,
hust les half t he hot els in t he world for everyt hing but t he sheet s, screws every airline in t he
skies, including most of t heir st ewardesses, passes enough bad checks t o paper t he walls of
t he Pent agon, runs his own goddamned colleges and universit ies, makes half t he cops in
t went y count ries look like dumb-asses while hes st ealing over $2 million, and he has a low
criminal t hreshold? What t he hell would he have done if hed had a high criminal t hreshold,
loot ed Fort Knox?
The det ect ive confront ed me wit h t he paper. We had become amiable adversaries. You
conned t his shrink, didnt you, Frank?
I t old him Id answered every quest ion asked me as t rut hfully as possible, t hat Id complet ed
every t est given me as honest ly as I could. I didnt convince him. Nah, he said. You can fool
t hese feds, but you cant fool me. You conned t his couch t urkey. He shook his head. Youd
con your own fat her, Frank.
I already had. My fat her was t he mark for t he first score I ever made. Dad possessed t he one
t rait necessary in t he perfect pigeon, blind t rust , and I plucked him for $3,400. I was only fift een
at t he t ime.
I was born and spent my first sixt een years in New Yorks Bronxville. I was t he t hird of four
children and my dads namesake. If I want ed t o lay down a baby con, I could say I was t he
product of a broken home, for Mom and Dad separat ed when I was t welve. But Id only be bum-
rapping my parent s.
The person most hurt by t he separat ion and subsequent divorce was Dad. He was really
hung up on Mom. My mot her, Paulet t e Abagnale, is a French-Algerian beaut y whom dad met
and married during his World War II army service in Oran. Mom was only fift een at t he t ime, and
Dad was t went y-eight , and while t he difference in ages didnt seem t o mat t er at t he t ime, Ive
always felt it had an influence on t he breakup of t heir marriage.
Dad opened his own business in New York Cit y aft er his discharge from t he army, a
st at ionery st ore at Fort iet h and Madison Avenue called Gramercys. He was very successful.
We lived in a big, luxurious home and if we werent fabulously wealt hy, we were cert ainly
affluent . My brot hers, my sist er and I never want ed for anyt hing during our early years.
A kid is oft en t he last t o know when t heres serious t rouble bet ween his parent s. I know
t hat s t rue in my case and I dont t hink my siblings were any more aware t han ? I. We t hought
Mom was cont ent t o be a housewife and mot her and she was, up t o a point . But Dad was
more t han just a successful businessman. He was also very act ive in polit ics, one of t he
Republican wheels in t he Bronx precinct s. He was a member and past president of t he New
York At hlet ic Club, and he spent a lot of his t ime at t he club wit h bot h business and polit ical
cronies.
Dad was also an avid salt -wat er fisherman. He was always flying off t o Puert o Rico,
Kingst on, Belize or some ot her Caribbean spa on deep-sea fishing expedit ions. He never t ook
Mom along, and he should have. My mot her was a womens libber before Gloria St einem
learned her Maidenform was flammable. And one day Dad came back from a marlin-chasing
jaunt t o find his home creel empt y. Mom had packed up and moved herself, us t hree boys and
Sis int o a large apart ment . We kids were somewhat myst ified, but Mom quiet ly explained t hat
she and Dad were no longer compat ible and had elect ed t o live apart .
Well, she had elect ed t o live apart , anyway. Dad was shocked, surprised and hurt at Moms
act ion. He pleaded wit h her t o come back home, promising hed be a bet t er husband and
fat her and t hat hed curt ail his deep-sea out ings. He even offered t o forgo polit ics.
Mom list ened, but she made no promises. And it soon became apparent t o me, if not Dad,
t hat she had no int ent ion of reconciling. She enrolled in a Bronx dent al college and st art ed
t raining t o be a dent al t echnician.
Dad didnt give up. He was over at our apart ment at every opport unit y, pleading, cajoling,
ent reat ing and flat t ering her. Somet imes hed lose his t emper. Damn it , womancant you see
I love you! hed roar.
The sit uat ion did have it s effect on us boys, of course. Me in part icular. I loved my dad. I was
t he closest t o him, and he commenced t o use me in his campaign t o win back Mom. Talk t o
her, son, hed ask of me. Tell her I love her. Tell her wed be happier if we all lived t oget her. Tell
her youd be happier if she came home, t hat all you kids would be happier.
Hed give me gift s t o deliver t o Mom, and coach me in speeches designed t o break down my
mot hers resist ance.
As a juvenile John Alden t o my fat hers Myles St andish and my mot hers Priscilla Mullins, I
was a flop. My mot her couldnt be conned. And Dad probably hurt his own case because Mom
resent ed his using me as a pawn in t heir game of marit al chess. She divorced Dad when I was
fourt een.
Dad was crushed. I was disappoint ed, for I had really want ed t hem t o get back t oget her. Ill
say t his for Dad: when he loved a woman, he loved her forever. He was st ill t rying t o win Mom
back when he died in 1974.
When Mom finally divorced my fat her, I elect ed t o live wit h Dad. Mom wasnt t oo keen on my
decision, but I felt Dad needed one of us, t hat he shouldnt have t o live alone, and I persuaded
her. Dad was grat eful and pleased. I have never regret t ed t he decision, alt hough Dad probably
did.
Life wit h Fat her was a whole different ball game. I spent a lot of t ime in some of New Yorks
finest saloons. Businessmen, I learned, not only enjoy t hree-mart ini lunches, but t hey belt out a
lot of boilermaker brunches and whack out scores of scot ch and soda dinners. Polit icians, I also
not ed quickly, had a bet t er grasp of world affairs and a looser lid on t heir pork barrels when
t hey were at t ached t o a bourbon on t he rocks. Dad did a lot of his business dealing and a
goodly amount of his polit ical maneuvering close t o a bar, wit h me wait ing nearby. My fat hers
drinking habit s alarmed me at first . I didnt t hink he was an alcoholic, but he was a t wo-fist ed
drinker and I worried t hat he had a drinking problem. St ill, I never saw him drunk alt hough he
drank const ant ly and aft er a while I assumed he was immune t o t he juice.
I was fascinat ed by my dads associat es, friends and acquaint ances. They ranged t he gamut
of t he Bronxs social st rat um: ward heelers, cops, union bosses, business. execut ives, t ruckers,
cont ract ors, st ock brokers, clerks, cabbies and promot ers. The whole smear. Some were right
out of t he pages of Damon Runyon.
Aft er hanging out wit h Dad for six mont hs, I was st reet wise and about five-eight hs smart ,
which is not exact ly t he kind of educat ion Dad had in mind for me, but it s t he kind you get in
sauce parlors.
Dad had a lot of polit ical clout . I learned t his when I st art ed playing hookey from school and
running wit h some loose-end kids from my neighborhood. They werent gang members or
anyt hing like t hat . They werent int o anyt hing really heavy. They were just guys wit h a
screwed-up family sit uat ion, t rying t o get at t ent ion from someone, if only t he t ruant officer.
Maybe t hat s why I st art ed hanging out wit h t hem. Perhaps I was seeking at t ent ion myself. I
did want my parent s t oget her again, and I had vague not ions at t he t ime t hat if I act ed like a
juvenile delinquent , it might provide a common ground for a reconciliat ion.
I wasnt t oo good as a juvenile delinquent . Most of t he t ime I felt plain foolish, swiping candy
and slipping int o movies. I was much more mat ure t han my companions, and much bigger. At
fift een I was physically grown, six feet and 170 pounds, and I guess we got away wit h a lot of
minor mischief because people who saw us abroad t hought I was a t eacher shepherding some
st udent s or a big brot her looking out for t he younger crowd. I somet imes felt t hat way myself,
and I was oft en irrit at ed at t heir childishness.
What bot hered me most was t heir lack of st yle. I learned early t hat class is universally
admired. Almost any fault , sin or crime is considered more lenient ly if t heres a t ouch of class
involved.
These kids couldnt even boost a car wit h any finesse. The first set of wheels t hey lift ed,
t hey came by t o pick me up, and we werent a mile from my house when a squad car pulled us
over. The jerks had t aken t he car from a driveway while t he owner was wat ering his lawn. We
all ended up in t he Juvenile Hilt on.
Dad not only got me out , but he had all ment ion of my part in t he incident erased from t he
records. It was a bit of ward-heeling wizardry t hat was t o cost a lot of cops a lot of sleep in
fut ure years. Even an elephant is easier t o find if you can pick up his t rail at t he st art of t he
hunt .
Dad didnt chew me out . We all make mist akes, son, he said. I know what you were t rying
t o do, but t hat s not t he way t o do it . Under t he law, youre st ill a child, but youre man-sized.
Maybe you ought t o t ry t hinking like a man.
I dropped my erst while chums, st art ed going t o school regularly again and got a part -t ime job
as a shipping clerk in a Bronxville warehouse. Dad was pleasedso pleased he bought me an
old Ford, which I proceeded t o fix up int o a real fox t rap.
If I had t o place any blame for my fut ure nefarious act ions, Id put it on t he Ford.
That Ford fract ured every moral fiber in my body. It int roduced me t o girls, and I didnt come
t o my senses for six years. They were wonderful years.
There are undoubt edly ot her ages in a mans life when his reasoning power is eclipsed by his
libido, but none presses on t he prefront al lobes like t he post -pubert y years when t he t hought s
are running and every luscious chick who passes increases t he flow. At fift een I knew about
girls, of course. They were built different ly t han boys. But I didnt know why unt il I st opped at a
red light one day, aft er renovat ing t he Ford, and saw t his girl looking at me and my car. When
she saw she had my at t ent ion, she did somet hing wit h her eyes, jiggled her front and t wit ched
her behind, and suddenly I was drowning in my t hought s. She had rupt ured t he dam. I dont
remember how she got int o t he car, or where we went aft er she got in, but I do remember she
was all silk, soft ness, nuzzly, warm, sweet -, smelling and absolut ely delight ful, and I knew Id
found a cont act sport t hat I could really enjoy. She did t hings t o me t hat would lure a
hummingbird from a hibiscus and make a bulldog break his chain.
I am not impressed by t odays t omes on womens right s in t he bedroom. When Henry Ford
invent ed t he Model-T, women shed t heir bloomers and put sex on t he road.
Women became my only vice. I reveled in t hem. I couldnt get enough of t hem. I woke up
t hinking of girls. I went t o bed t hinking of girls. All lovely, leggy, breat ht aking, fant ast ic and
enchant ing. I went on girl scout ing forays at sunrise. I went out at night and looked for t hem
wit h a flashlight . Don Juan had only a mild case of t he hot s compared t o me. I was obsessed
wit h foxy women.
I was also a charming broke aft er my first few close encount ers of t he best kind. Girls are not
necessarily expensive, but even t he most frolicsome Fraulein expect s a hamburger and a Coke
now and t hen, just for energy purposes. I simply wasnt making enough bread t o pay for my
cake. I needed a way t o juggle my finances.
I sought out Dad, who was not t ot ally unaware of my discovery of girls and t heir at t endant
joys. Dad, it was really neat of you t o give me a car, and I feel like a jerk asking for more, but
Ive got problems wit h t hat car, I pleaded. I need a gas credit card. I only get paid once a
mont h, and what wit h buying my school lunches, going t o t he games, dat ing and st uff, I dont
have t he dough t o buy gas somet imes. Ill t ry and pay t he bill myself, but I promise I wont abuse
your generosit y if youll let me have a gas card.
I was as glib as an Irish horse t rader at t he t ime, and at t he t ime I was sincere. Dad mulled
t he request for a few moment s, t hen nodded. All right , Frank, I t rust you, he said, t aking his
Mobil card from his wallet . You t ake t his card and use it . I wont charge anyt hing t o Mobil from
now on. It ll be your card, and wit hin reason, if 11 be your responsibilit y t o pay t his bill each
mont h when it comes in. I wont worry about your t aking advant age of me.
He should have. The arrangement worked fine t he first mont h. The Mobil bill came in and I
bought a money order for t he amount and sent it t o t he oil firm. But t he payment left me
st rapped and once again I found myself hampered in my const ant quest for girls. I began t o feel
frust rat ed. Aft er all, t he pursuit of happiness was an inalienable American privilege, wasnt it ? I
felt I was being deprived of a const it ut ional right .
Someone once said t heres no such t hing as an honest man. He was probably a con man. It s
t he favorit e rat ionale of t he pigeon dropper. I t hink a lot of people do fant asize about being a
supercriminal, an int ernat ional diamond t hief or somet hing like t hat , but t hey confine t heir
larceny t o daydreams. I also t hink a lot of ot her people are act ually t empt ed now and t hen t o
commit a crime, especially if t heres a nice bundle t o be had and t hey t hink t hey wont be
connect ed wit h t he caper. Such people usually reject t he t empt at ion. They have an innat e
percept ion of right and wrong, and common sense prevails.
But t heres also a t ype of person whose compet it ive inst inct s override reason. They are
challenged by a given sit uat ion in much t he same manner a climber is challenged by a t all peak:
because it s t here. Right or wrong are not fact ors, nor are consequences. These people look on
crime as a game, and t he goal is not just t he loot ; it s t he success of t he vent ure t hat count s.
Of course, if t he boot y is bount iful, t hat s nice, t oo.
These people are t he chess players of t he criminal world. They generally have a genius-level
IQ and t heir ment al knight s and bishops are always on t he at t ack. They never ant icipat e being
checkmat ed. They are always ast onished when a cop wit h average int elligence rooks t hem,
and t he cop is always ast onished at t heir mot ives. Crime as a challenge? Jesus.
But it was t he challenge t hat led me t o put down my first scam. I needed money, all right .
Anyone wit h a chronic case of t he girl crazies needs all t he financial assist ance t hat s available.
However, I really wasnt dwelling on my lack of funds when I st opped at a Mobil st at ion one
aft ernoon and spot t ed a large sign in front of t he st at ions t ire display racks, PUT A SET ON
YOUR MOBIL CARDWELL PUT THE SET ON YOUR CAR t he sign read. It was t he first
inkling Id had t hat t he Mobil card was good for more t han gas or oil. I didnt need any t irest he
ones on t he Ford were pract ically newbut as I st udied t he sign I was suddenly possessed by
a four-ply scheme. Hell, it might even work, I t hought .
I got out and approached t he at t endant , who was also t he owner of t he st at ion. We were
casual acquaint ances from t he many pit st ops Id made at t he st at ion. It was not a busy gas
st op. Id make more money holding up filling st at ions t han running one, hed once complained.
How much would it cost me for a set of whit ewalls? I asked.
For t his car, $160, but you got a good set of t reads, t he man said.
He looked at me and I knew he sensed he was about t o be proposit ioned. Yeah, I dont
really need any t ires, I agreed. But I got a bad case of t he short s. Tell you what Ill do. Ill buy a
set of t hose t ires and charge t hem on t his card. Only I dont t ake t he t ires. You give me $100
inst ead. Youve st ill got t he t ires, and when my dad pays Mobil for t hem, you get your cut .
Youre ahead t o st art wit h, and when you do sell t he t ires, t he whole $160 goes int o your
pocket . What do you say? Youll make out like a dragon, man.
He st udied me, and I could see t he speculat ive greed in his eyes. What about your old
man? he asked caut iously.
I shrugged. He never looks at my car. I t old him I needed some new t ires and he t old me t o
charge t hem.
He was st ill doubt ful. Lemme see your drivers license. This could be a st olen card, he said. I
handed him my junior drivers license, which bore t he same name as t he card. Youre only
fift een? You look t en years older, t he st at ion owner said as he handed it back.
I smiled. I got a lot of miles on me, I said.
He nodded. Ill have t o call int o Mobil and get an approvalwe have t o do t hat on any big
purchase, he said. If I get an okay, we got a deal.
I rolled out of t he st at ion wit h five t went ies in my wallet .
I was heady wit h happiness. Since I hadnt yet had my first t ast e of alcohol, I couldnt
compare t he feeling t o a champagne high, say, but it was t he most delight ful sensat ion Id ever
experienced in t he front seat of a car.
In fact , my cleverness overwhelmed me. If it worked once, why wouldnt it work t wice? It did. It
worked so many t imes in t he next several weeks, I lost count . I cant remember how many set s
of t ires, how many bat t eries, how many ot her aut omobile accessories I bought wit h t hat
charge card and t hen sold back for a fract ion of value. I hit every Mobil st at ion in t he Bronx.
Somet imes Id just con t he guy on t he pumps int o giving me $10 and sign a t icket for $20
wort h of gas and oil. I wore t hat Mobil card t hin wit h t he scam.
I blew it all on t he broads, nat urally. At first I operat ed on t he premise t hat Mobil was
underwrit ing my pleasures, so what t he hell? Then t he first mont hs bill landed in t he mailbox.
The envelope was st uffed fuller t han a Christ mas goose wit h charge receipt s. I looked at t he
t ot al due and briefly cont emplat ed ent ering t he priest hood, for I realized Mobil expect ed Dad t o
pay t he bill. It hadnt occurred t o me t hat Dad would be t he pat sy in t he game.
I t hrew t he bill int o t he wast ebasket . A second not ice mailed t wo weeks lat er also went int o
t he t rash. I t hought about facing up t o Dad and confessing, but I didnt have t he courage. I
knew hed find out , sooner or lat er, but I decided someone ot her t han me would have t o t ell
him.
Amazingly, I didnt pull up while await ing a summit session bet ween my fat her and Mobil. I
cont inued t o work t he credit -card con and spend t he loot on lovely women, even t hough I was
aware I was also diddling my dad. An inflamed sex drive has no conscience.
Event ually, a Mobil invest igat or sought Dad out in his st ore. The man was apologet ic.
Mr. Abagnale, youve had a card wit h us for fift een years and we prize your account . Youve
got a t op credit rat ing, youve never been lat e wit h a payment and Im not here t o harass you
about your bill, said t he agent as Dad list ened wit h a puzzled expression. We are curious, sir,
and would like t o know one t hing. Just how in t he hell can you run up a $3,400 bill for gas, oil,
bat t eries and t ires for one 1952 Ford in t he space of t hree mont hs? Youve put fourt een set s
of t ires on t hat car in t he past sixt y days, bought t went y-t wo bat t eries in t he past ninet y days
and you cant be get t ing over t wo miles t o t he gallon on gas. We figure you dont even have an
oil pan on t he damned t hing. . . . Have you given any t hought t o t rading t hat car in on a new
one, Mr. Abagnale?
Dad was st unned. Why, I dont even use my Mobil cardmy son does, he said when he
recovered. There must be some mist ake.
The Mobil invest igat or placed several hundred Mobil charge receipt s in front of Dad. Each
bore his signat ure in my handwrit ing. How did he do t his? And why? Dad exclaimed.
I dont know, replied t he Mobil agent . Why dont we ask him?
They did. I said I didnt know a t hing about t he swindle. I didnt convince eit her of t hem. I had
expect ed Dad t o be furious. But he was more confused t han angry. Look, son, if youll t ell us
how you did t his, and why, well forget it . Therell be no punishment and Ill pay t he bills, he
offered.
My dad was a great guy in my book. He never lied t o me in his life. I prompt ly copped out . It s
t he girls, Dad, I sighed. They do funny t hings t o me. I cant explain it .
Dad and t he Mobil invest igat or nodded underst anding-ly. Dad laid a sympat het ic hand on my
shoulder. Dont worry about it , boy. Einst ein couldnt explain it , eit her, he said.
If Dad forgave me, Mom didnt . She was really upset over t he incident and blamed my fat her
for my delinquencies. My mot her st ill had legal cust ody of me and she decided t o remove me
from Dads influences. Worse st ill, on t he advice of one of t he fat hers who worked wit h Cat holic
Charit ies, wit h which my mot her has always been affiliat ed, she popped me int o a C.C. privat e
school for problem boys in Port Chest er, New York.
As a reformat ory, t he school wasnt much. It was more of a posh camp t han a remedial
inst it ut ion. I lived in a neat cot t age wit h six ot her boys, and except for t he fact t hat I was
rest rict ed t o campus and const ant ly supervised, I was subject ed t o no hardships.
The brot hers who ran t he school were a benevolent lot . They lived in much t he same
manner as t heir wards. We all at e in a common dining hall, and t he food was good and plent iful.
There was a movie t heat er, a t elevision room, a recreat ion hall, a swimming pool and a
gymnasium. I never did cat alogue all t he recreat ional and sport s facilit ies t hat were available.
We at t ended classes from 8 A.M. t o 3 P.M., Monday t hrough Friday, but ot herwise our t ime was
our own t o do wit h as we liked. The brot hers didnt harangue us about our misdeeds or bore us
wit h pont ifical lect ures, and you really had t o mess up t o be punished, which usually meant
being confined t o your cot t age for a couple of days. I never encount ered anyt hing like t he
school unt il I landed in a U.S. prison. I have oft en wondered since if t he federal penal syst em
isnt secret ly operat ed by Cat holic Charit ies.
The monast ic lifest yle galled me, however. I endured it , but I looked on my st int in t he school
as punishment and undeserved punishment at t hat . Aft er all, Dad had forgiven me and he had
been t he sole vict im of my crimes. So what was I doing in t he place? Id ask myself. What I
disliked most about t he school, however, was it s lack of girls. It was st rict ly an all-male
at mosphere. Even t he sight of a nun would have t hrilled me.
I would have been even more depressed had I known what was happening t o Dad during my
st ay. He never went int o det ails, but while I was in t he school he ran int o some severe financial
difficult ies and lost his business.
He was really wiped out . He was forced t o sell t he house and his t wo big Cadillacs and
everyt hing else he had of mat erial value. In t he space of a few mont hs, Dad went from living
like a millionaire t o living like a post al clerk.
That s what he was when he came t o get me aft er Id spent a year in t he school. A post al
clerk. Mom had relent ed and had agreed t o my living wit h Dad again. I was shocked at t he
reversal of his fort unes, and more t han a lit t le guilt -ridden. But Dad would not allow me t o
blame myself. The $3,400 Id ripped him off for was not a fact or in his business downfall, he
assured me. Dont even t hink of it , kid. That was a drop in t he bucket , he said cheerfully.
He did not seem t o be bot hered by his sudden drop in st at us and finances, but it bot hered
me. Not for myself, but for Dad. Hed been so high, a real wheeler-dealer, and now he was
working for wages. I t ried t o pump him for t he causes. What about your friends, Dad? I asked.
I remember you were always pulling t hem out of t ight spot s. Didnt any of t hem offer t o help
you?
Dad just smiled wryly. Youll learn, Frank, t hat when youre up t herere hundreds of people
wholl claim you as a friend. When youre down, youre lucky if one of t hem will buy you a cup of
coffee. If I had it t o do over again, Id select my friends more carefully. I do have a couple of good
friends. Theyre not wealt hy, but one of t hem got me my job in t he post office.
He refused t o dwell on his misfort unes or t o discuss t hem at lengt h, but it bugged me,
especially when I was wit h him in his car. It wasnt as good as my Ford, which hed sold for me
and placed t he money in an account in my name. His car was a bat t ered old Chevy. Doesnt it
bot her you at all t o drive t his old car, Dad? I asked him one day.
I mean, t his is really a comedown from a Cadillac. Right ?
Dad laughed. That s t he wrong way t o look at it , Frank. It s not what a man has but what a
man is t hat s import ant . This car is fine for me. It get s me around. I know who I am and what I
am, and t hat s what count s, not what ot her people might t hink of me. Im an honest man, I feel,
and t hat s more import ant t o me t han having a big car.... As long as a man knows what he is
and who he is, hell do all right .
Trouble was, at t he t ime I didnt know what I was or who I was.
Wit hin t hree short years I had t he answer. Who are you? asked a lush brunet t e when I
plopped down on Miami Beach beside her.
Anyone I want t o be, I said. I was, t oo.
CHAPTER TWO
The Pilot
I left home at sixt een, looking for me.
There was no pressure on me t o leave, alt hough I wasnt happy. The sit uat ion on my dual
home front hadnt changed. Dad st ill want ed t o win Mom back and Mom didnt want t o be won.
Dad was st ill using me as a mediat or in his second court ship of Mom, and she cont inued t o
resent his cast ing me in t he role of Cupid. I disliked it myself. Mom had graduat ed from dent al
t echnicians school and was working for a Larchmont dent ist . She seemed sat isfied wit h her
new, independent life.
I had no plans t o run away. But every t ime Dad put on his post al clerks uniform and drove off
t o work in his old car, Id feel depressed. I couldnt forget how he used t o wear Louis Rot h suit s
and drive big expensive cars.
One June morning of 1964,1 woke up and knew it was t ime t o go. Some remot e corner of
t he world seemed t o be whispering, Come. So I went .
I didnt say good-bye t o anyone. I didnt leave any not es behind. I had $200 in a checking
account at t he West chest er branch of t he Chase Manhat t an Bank, an account Dad had set
up for me a year before and which Id never used. I dug out my checkbook, packed my best
clot hes in a single suit case and caught a t rain for New York Cit y. It wasnt exact ly a remot e
corner of t he globe, but I t hought it would make a good jumping-off place.
If Id been some runaway from Kansas or Nebraska, New York, wit h it s subway bedlam,
awesome skyscrapers, chaot ic st reams of noisy t raffic and endless t readmills of people, might
have sent me scurrying back t o t he prairies. But t he Big Apple was my t urf. Or so I t hought .
I wasnt off t he t rain an hour when I met a boy my own age and conned him int o t aking me
home wit h him. I t old his parent s t hat I was from upst at e New York, t hat bot h my mot her and
fat her were dead, t hat I was t rying t o make it on my own and t hat I needed a place t o st ay unt il
I got a job. They t old me I could st ay in t heir home as long as I want ed.
I had no int ent ions of abusing t heir hospit alit y. I was eager t o make a st ake and leave New
York, alt hough I had no ideas at t he moment as t o where I want ed t o go or what I want ed t o
do.
I did have a definit e goal. I was going t o be a success in some field. I was going t o make it t o
t he t op of some mount ain. And once t here, no one or not hing was going t o dislodge me from
t he peak. I wasnt going t o make t he mist akes my dad had made. I was det ermined on t hat
point .
The Big Apple quickly proved less t han juicy, even for a nat ive son. I had no problem finding a
job. Id worked for my fat her as a st ock clerk and delivery boy and was experienced in t he
operat ion of a st at ionery st ore. I st art ed calling on large st at ionery firms, present ing myself in a
t rut hful light . I was only sixt een, I said, and I was a high school dropout , but I was well versed in
t he st at ionery business. The manager of t he t hird firm I visit ed hired me at $1.50 an hour. I was
naive enough t o t hink it an adequat e salary.
I was disillusioned wit hin t he week. I realized I wasnt going t o be able t o live in New York on
$60 a week, even if I st ayed in t he shabbiest hot el and at e at t he Aut omat s. Even more
disheart ening, I was reduced t o t he role of spect at or in t he dat ing game. To t he girls Id met so
far, a st roll in Cent ral Park and a hot dog from a st reet vendors cart would not qualify as an
enchant ed evening. I wasnt t oo enchant ed wit h such a dalliance myself. Hot dogs make me
belch.
I analyzed t he sit uat ion and arrived at t his conclusion: I wasnt being paid lowly wages
because I was a high school dropout but because I was only sixt een. A boy simply wasnt wort h
a mans wages.
So I aged t en years overnight . It had always surprised people, especially women, t o learn I
was st ill a t een-ager. I decided t hat since I appeared older, I might as well be older. I had
excelled in graphic art s in school. I did a credible job of alt ering t he birt h dat e on my drivers
license from 1948 t o 1938. Then I went out t o t est t he job market as a t went y-six-year-old
high school dropout , wit h proof of my age in my wallet .
I learned t he pay scale for a man wit hout a high school diploma wasnt somet hing t hat would
embarrass t he creat ors of t he Minimum Wage Act . No one quest ioned my new age, but t he
best offer made me was $2.75 an hour as a t ruck drivers helper. Some prospect ive employers
blunt ly t old me t hat it wasnt age t hat det ermined a workers salary, but educat ion. The more
educat ion he had, t he more he was paid. I ruefully concluded t hat a high school dropout was
like a t hree-legged wolf in t he wilderness.
He might survive, but hed survive on less. It did not occur t o me unt il lat er t hat diplomas, like
birt h dat es, are also easily faked.
I could have survived on $110 a week, but I couldnt live on t hat amount . I was t oo enamored
of t he ladies, and any horse player can t ell you t hat t he surest way t o st ay broke is playing t he
fillies. The girls I was romancing were all running fillies, and t hey were cost ing me a bundle.
I st art ed writ ing checks on my $200 account whenever I was low on fun funds.
It was a reserve I hadnt want ed t o t ap, and I t ried t o be conservat ive. Id cash a check for
only $10, or at most $20, and at first I conduct ed all my check t ransact ions in a branch of t he
Chase Manhat t an Bank. Then I learned t hat st ores, hot els, grocery market s and ot her
business firms would also cash personal checks, provided t he amount wasnt overly large and
proper ident ificat ion was present ed. I found my alt ered drivers license was considered suit able
ident ificat ion, and I st art ed dropping in at t he handiest hot el or depart ment st ore whenever I
needed t o cash a $20 or $25 check. No one asked me any quest ions. No one checked wit h t he
bank t o see if t he check was good. Id simply present my jazzed-up drivers license wit h my
check and t he drivers license would be handed back wit h t he cash.
It was easy. Too easy. Wit hin a few days I knew I was overdrawn on my account and t he
checks I was writ ing were no good. However, I cont inued t o cash a check whenever I needed
money t o supplement my paycheck or t o finance a gourmet evening wit h some beaut iful chick.
Since my paycheck seemed always in need of a subsidy, and because New York has more
beaut iful chicks t han a poult ry farm, I was soon writ ing t wo or t hree bad checks daily.
I rat ionalized my act ions. Dad would t ake care of t he insufficient checks, I t old myself. Or Id
assuage my conscience wit h con mans salve: if people were st upid enough t o cash a check
wit hout verifying it s validit y, t hey deserved t o be swindled.
I also consoled myself wit h t he fact t hat I was a juvenile. Even if I were caught , it was unlikely
t hat Id receive any st ern punishment , considering t he soft ness of New Yorks juvenile laws and
t he leniency of t he cit ys juvenile judges. As a first offender, Id probably be released t o my
parent s. I probably wouldnt even have t o make rest it ut ion.
My scruples fort ified by such nebulous defenses, I quit my job and began t o support myself
on t he proceeds of my spurious checks. I didnt keep t rack of t he number of bum checks I
passed, but my st andard of living improved remarkably. So did my st andard of loving.
Aft er t wo mont hs of cranking out wort hless checks, however, I faced myself wit h some
unpleasant t rut hs. I was a crook. Not hing more, not hing less. In t he parlance of t he st reet s, I
had become a professional paperhanger. That didnt bot her me t oo much, for I was a
successful paperhanger, and at t he moment t o be a success at anyt hing was t he most
import ant fact or in t he world t o me.
What did bot her me were t he occupat ional hazards involved in being a check swindler. I
knew my fat her had report ed my absence t o t he police. Generally, t he cops dont spend a lot of
t ime looking for a missing sixt een-year-old, unless foul play is suspect ed. However, my case
was undoubt edly an except ion, for I had provided plent y of foul play wit h my scores of bad
checks. The police, I knew, were looking for me as a t hief, not a runaway. Every merchant and
businessman Id bilked was also on t he alert for me, I speculat ed.
In short , I was hot . I knew I could elude t he cops for a while yet , but I also knew Id event ually
be caught if I st ayed in New York and cont inued t o lit t er cash drawers wit h useless chit s.
The alt ernat ive was t o leave New York, and t he prospect fright ened me. That st ill-remot e
corner of t he world suddenly seemed chill and friendless. In Manhat t an, despit e my brash show
of independence, Id always clut ched a securit y blanket . Mom and Dad were just a phone call or
a short t rain ride away. I knew t heyd be loyal, no mat t er my misdeeds. The out look appeared
decidedly gloomy if I fled t o Chicago, Miami, Washingt on or some ot her dist ant met ropolis.
I was pract iced in only one art , writ ing fraudulent checks. I didnt even cont emplat e any ot her
source of income, and t o me t hat was a mat t er of prime concern. Could I flimflam merchant s in
anot her cit y as easily as I had swindled New Yorkers? In New York I had an act ual, if valueless,
checking account , and a valid, if t en years off, drivers license, which t oget her allowed me t o
work my nefarious t rade in a lucrat ive manner. Bot h my st ack of personalized checks (t he
name was real, only t he funds were fict ional) and my t inseled drivers license would be useless
in any ot her cit y. Id have t o change my name, acquire bogus ident ificat ion and set up a bank
account under my alias before I could operat e. It all seemed complex and danger-ridden t o me. I
was a successful crook. I wasnt yet a confident crook.
I was st ill wrest ling wit h t he perplexit ies of my sit uat ion several days lat er while walking along
Forty-second Street
when t he revolving doors of t he Commodore Hot el disgorged t he solut ion t o my quandary.
As I drew near t he hot el ent rance, an East ern Airlines flight crew emerged: a capt ain, co-
pilot , flight engineer and four st ewardesses. They were all laughing and animat ed, caught up in
a joie de vivre of t heir own. The men were all lean and handsome, and t heir gold-piped uniforms
lent t hem a buccaneerish air. The girls were all t rim and lovely, as graceful and colorful as
but t erflies abroad in a meadow. I st opped and wat ched as t hey boarded a crew bus, and I
t hought I had never seen such a splendid group of people.
I walked on, st ill enmeshed in t he net of t heir glamour, and suddenly I was seized wit h an
idea so daring in scope, so dazzling in design, t hat I whelmed myself.
What if I were a pilot ? Not an act ual pilot , of course. I had no heart for t he grueling years of
st udy, t raining, flight schooling, work and ot her mundane t oils t hat fit a man for a jet liners
cockpit . But what if I had t he uniform and t he t rappings of an airline pilot ? Why, I t hought , I
could walk int o any hot el, bank or business in t he count ry and cash a check. Airline pilot s are
men t o be admired and respect ed. Men t o be t rust ed. Men of means. And you dont expect an
airline pilot t o be a local resident . Or a check swindler.
I shook off t he spell. The idea was t oo ludicrous, t oo ridiculous t o consider. Challenging, yes,
but foolish.
Then I was at Fort y-second and Park Avenue and t he Pan American World Airways Building
loomed over me. I looked up at t he soaring office building, and I didnt see a st ruct ure of st eel,
st one and glass. I saw a mount ain t o be climbed.
The execut ives of t he famed carrier were unaware of t he fact , but t hen and t here Pan Am
acquired it s most cost ly jet jockey. And one who couldnt fly, at t hat . But what t he hell. It s a
scient ific fact t hat t he bumblebee cant fly, eit her. But he does, and makes a lot of honey on
t he side.
And t hat s all I int ended t o be. A bumblebee in Pan Ams honey hive.
I sat up all night , cogit at ing, and fell asleep just before dawn wit h a t ent at ive plan in mind. It
was one Id have t o play by ear, I felt , but isnt t hat t he basis of all knowledge? You list en and
you learn.
I awoke short ly aft er 1 P.M., grabbed t he Yellow Pages and looked up Pan Ams number. I
dialed t he main swit chboard number and asked t o speak t o someone in t he purchasing
depart ment . I was connect ed prompt ly.
This is Johnson, can I help you?
Like Caesar at t he Rubicon, I cast t he die. Yes, I said.
My name is Robert Black and Im a co-pilot wit h Pan American, based in Los Angeles. I
paused for his react ion, my heart t humping.
Yes, what can I do for you, Mr. Black? He was court eous and mat t er-of-fact and I plunged
ahead.
We flew a t rip in here at eight oclock t his morning, and Im due out of here t his evening at
seven, I said. I plucked t he flight t imes from t hin air and hoped he wasnt familiar wit h Pan Ams
schedules. I cert ainly wasnt .
Now, I dont know how t his happened, I cont inued, t rying t o sound chagrined. Ive been
wit h t he company seven years and never had anyt hing like t his happen. The t hing is, someone
-has st olen my uniform, or at least it s missing, and t he only replacement uniform I have is in my
home in Los Angeles. Now, I have t o fly t his t rip out t onight and Im almost sure I cant do it in
civilian clot hes. ... Do you know where I can pick up a uniform here, a supplier or what ever, or
borrow one, just t ill we work t his t rip?
Johnson chuckled. Well, it s not t hat big a problem, he replied. Have you got a pencil and
paper?
I said I did, and he cont inued. Go down t o t he Weil-Built Uniform Company and ask for Mr.
Rosen. Hell fix you up. Ill call him and t ell him youre coming down. What s your name again?
Robert Black, I replied, and hoped he was asking simply because hed forgot t en. His final
words reassured me.
Dont worry, Mr. Black. Rosen will t ake good care of you, Johnson said cheerfully. He
sounded like a Boy Scout whod just performed his good deed for t he day, and he had.
Less t han an hour lat er I walked int o t he Well-Built Uniform Company. Rosen was a wispy,
dour lit t le man wit h a phlegmat ic manner, a t ailors t ape dangling on his chest . You Officer
Black? he asked in a reedy voice and, when I said I was, he crooked a finger. Come on back I
followed him t hrough a maze of clot hing racks boast ing a variet y of uniforms, apparent ly for
several different airlines, unt il he st opped beside a display of dark blue suit s.
What s your rank? Rosen asked, sift ing t hrough a row of jacket s.
I knew none of t he airline t erminology. Co-pilot , I said, and hoped t hat was t he right answer.
First officer, huh? he said, and began handing me jacket s and t rousers t o t ry on for size.
Finally, Rosen was sat isfied. This isnt a perfect fit , but I dont have t ime t o make alt erat ions. If
11 get you by unt il you can find t ime t o get a proper fit t ing. He t ook t he jacket t o a sewing
machine and deft ly and swift ly t acked t hree gold st ripes on each sleeve cuff. Then he fit t ed
me wit h a visored cap.
I suddenly not iced t he uniform jacket and cap each lacked somet hing. Wheres t he Pan Am
wings and t he Pan Am emblem? I asked.
Rosen regarded me quizzically and I t ensed. I blew it , I t hought . Then Rosen shrugged. Oh,
we dont carry t hose. We just manufact ure uniforms. Youre t alking about hardware. Hardware
comes direct ly from Pan Am, at least here in New York. Youll have t o get t he wings and t he
emblem from Pan Ams st ores depart ment .
Oh, okay, I said, smiling. In L.A. t he same people who supply our uniforms supply t he
emblems. How much do I owe you for t his uniform? Ill writ e you a check. I was reaching for my
checkbook when it dawned on me t hat my checks bore t he name Frank Abagnale, Jr., and
almost cert ainly would expose my charade.
Rosen himself st aved off disast er. It s $289, but I cant t ake a check. I act ed disappoint ed.
Well, gosh, Mr. Rosen, Ill have t o go cash a check t hen and bring you t he cash.
Rosen shook his head. Cant t ake cash, eit her, he said. Im going t o have t o bill t his back t o
your employee account number and it ll be deduct ed from your uniform allowance or t aken out
of your paycheck. That s t he way
^. .**? ~C ,,----_ _...._ 1------1-
we do it here. Rosen was a verit able fount of airline operat ions informat ion and I was
grat eful.
He handed me a form in t riplicat e and I commenced t o fill in t he required informat ion.
Opposit e t he space for my name were five small connect ed boxes, and I assumed right ly t hat
t hey were for an employees payroll account number. Five boxes. Five digit s. I filled in t he boxes
wit h t he first five numbers t hat came t o mind, signed t he form and pushed it back t o Rosen. He
snapped off t he bot t om copy, handed it t o me.
Thank you very much, Mr. Rosen, I said, and left , carrying t he lovely uniform. If Rosen
answered, I didnt hear him.
I went back t o my room and dialed t he Pan Am swit chboard again. Excuse me, but I was
referred t o t he st ores depart ment , I said, act ing confused. What is t hat , please? Im not wit h
t he company, and I have t o make a delivery t here.
The swit chboard girl was most helpful. St ores is our employee commissary, she said. It s in
Hangar Fourt een at Kennedy Airport . Do you need direct ions?
I said I didnt and t hanked her. I t ook an airport bus t o Kennedy and was dismayed when t he
driver let me off in front of Hangar 14. What ever st ores Pan Am kept in Hangar 14, t hey had t o
be valuable. The hangar was a fort ress, surrounded by a t all cyclone fence t opped wit h st rands
of barbed wire and it s ent rances guarded by armed sent ries. A sign on t he guard shack at
each ent rance warned EMPLOYEES ONLY.
A dozen or more pilot s, st ewardesses and civilians ent ered t he compound while I
reconnoit ered from t he bus st op. I not iced t he civilians st opped and displayed ident ificat ion t o
t he guards, but most of t he uniformed personnel, pilot s and st ewardesses, merely st rolled
t hrough t he gat e, some wit hout even a glance at t he guard. Then one t urned back t o say
somet hing t o a sent ry and I not iced he had an ID card clipped t o his breast pocket below his
wings.
It was a day t hat t hreat ened rain. I had brought a raincoat along, a black one similar t o t he
ones some of t he pilot s had draped over t heir arms. I had my newly acquired pilot s uniform in a
small duffle bag. I felt a lit t le like Cust er must have felt when he chanced upon Sit t ing Bulls
Sioux.
I react ed just like Cust er. I charged. I went int o one of t he airport t oilet s and changed int o t he
uniform, st uffing my civies int o t he duffle bag. Then I left t he t erminal and walked direct ly
t oward Hangar 14s nearest ent rance.
The guard was in his shack, his back t oward me. As I neared t he gat e, I flipped t he raincoat
over my left shoulder, concealing t he ent ire left side of my jacket , and swept off my hat . When
t he guard t urned t o confront me, I was combing my hair wit h my fingers, my hat in my left hand.
I didnt break st ride. I smiled and said crisply, Good evening. He made no effort t o st op me,
alt hough he ret urned my greet ing. A moment lat er I was inside Hangar 14. It was, indeed, a
hangar. A gleaming 707, parked at t he rear of t he building, dominat ed t he int erior. But Hangar
14 was also an immense compart ment ed office st ruct ure cont aining t he offices of t he chief
pilot and chief st ewardess, t he firms met eorology offices and dozens of ot her cubicles t hat I
presumed accommodat ed ot her Pan Am funct ions or personnel. The place was t eeming wit h
human t raffic. There seemed t o be dozens of pilot s, scores of st ewardesses and innumerable
civilians milling around. I presumed t he lat t er were clerks, t icket agent s, mechanics and ot her
nonflying personnel.
I hesit at ed in t he lobby, suddenly apprehensive. Abrupt ly I felt like a sixt een-year-old and I
was sure t hat anyone who looked at me would realize I was t oo young t o be a pilot and would
summon t he nearest cop.
I didnt t urn a head. Those who did glance at me displayed no curiosit y or int erest . There was
a large placard on a facing wall list ing various depart ment s and wit h arrows point ing t he way.
St ores was down a corridor t o my left , and proved t o be a milit ary-like cubicle wit h a myriad of
box-holding shelves. A lanky yout h wit h his name embroidered on t he right side of his shirt rose
from a chair in front of a large desk as I st opped at t he count er.
Can I hep ya? he asked in molasses t ones. It was t he first real sout hern drawl Id ever
heard. I liked it .
Yes, I said and at t empt ed a rueful grin. I need a pair of wings and a hat emblem. My t wo-
year-old t ook mine off my uniform last night and he wont , or cant , t ell me what he did wit h
t hem.
The st orekeeper laughed. We got mo wings on kids n gals n we got on pilot s, I spect , he
said drolly. We shore replace a lot of em, anyway. Here you are. Gimme yore name and
employee number. He t ook a form from a file slot on his desk and laid it on t he count er wit h a
pair of golden wings and a Pan Am cap badge and st ood, pen poised.
Robert Black, first officer, 35099, I said, affixing t he hat emblem and pinning t he wings on
my t unic. Im out of Los Angeles. You need an address t here?
He grinned. Nah, damned comput ers dont need not h-in but numbers, he replied, handing
me a copy of t he purchase form.
I loit ered leaving t he building, t rying t o mingle unobt rusively wit h t he crowd.
I want ed t o pick up as much informat ion as possible on airline pilot s and airline operat ions,
and t his seemed a good opport unit y t o glean a few t idbit s. Despit e t he number of pilot s and
ot her aircrewmen in t he building, t hey all seemed t o be st rangers t o one anot her. I was
especially int erest ed in t he plast ic-enclosed cards, obviously ident ificat ion of some sort , t hat
most of t he pilot s sport ed on t heir breast s. The st ewardesses, I observed, had similar ID cards
but had t hem clipped t o t heir purse st raps.
A couple of pilot s were scanning not ices t acked on a large bullet in board in t he lobby. I
st opped and pret ended t o look at some of t he not ices, FAA or Pan Am memos most ly, and
was afforded a close-up view of one pilot s ID card. It was slight ly larger t han a drivers license
and similar t o t he one in my pocket , save for a passport -sized color phot ograph of t he man in
t he upper right -hand corner and Pan Americans firm name and logo across t he t op in t he
companys colors.
Obviously/ I reflect ed as I left t he building, I was going t o need more t han a uniform if I was t o
be successful in my role of Pan Am pilot . I would need an ID card and a great deal more
knowledge of Pan Ams operat ions t han I possessed at t he moment . I put t he uniform away in
my closet and st art ed haunt ing t he public library and canvassing bookst ores, st udying all t he
mat erial available on pilot s, flying and airlines. One small volume I encount ered proved
especially valuable. It was t he reminiscences of a vet eran Pan American flight capt ain, replet e
wit h scores of phot ographs, and cont aining a wealt h of airline t erminology. It was not unt il lat er
I learned t hat t he pilot s phraseology was somewhat dat ed.
A lot of t he t hings I felt I ought t o know, however, were not in t he books or magazines I read.
So I got back on t he pipe wit h Pan Am. Id like t o speak t o a pilot , please, I t old t he
swit chboard operat or. Im a report er for my high school newspaper, and Id like t o do a st ory on
pilot s livesyou know, where t hey fly, how t heyre t rained and t hat sort of st uff. Do you t hink a
pilot would t alk t o me?
Pan Am has t he nicest people. Well, I can put you t hrough t o operat ions, t he crew lounge,
said t he woman. There might be someone sit t ing around t here t hat might answer some of
your quest ions.
There was a capt ain who was happy t o oblige. He was delight ed t hat young people showed
an int erest in making a career in t he airline field. I int roduced myself as Bobby Black, and aft er
some innocuous queries, I st art ed t o feed him t he quest ions I want ed answered.
What s t he age of t he youngest pilot flying for Pan Am?
Well, t hat depends, he answered. We have some
flight engineers whore probably no older t han t went y-t hree or t went y-four. Our youngest
co-pilot is probably up in his lat e t went ies. Your average capt ain is close t o fort y or in his
fort ies, probably.
I see, I said. Well, would it be impossible for a copilot t o be t went y-six, or even younger?
Oh, no, he answered quickly. I dont know t hat we have t hat many in t hat age bracket , but
some of t he ot her airlines do have a lot of younger co-pilot s, Ive not iced. A lot depends, of
course, on t he t ype of plane hes flying and his seniorit y. Everyt hing is based on seniorit y, t hat
is, how long a pilot has been wit h a company.
I was finding a lot of nugget s for my poke. When do you hire people; I mean, at what age can
a pilot go t o work for an airline, say Pan Am?
If I remember correct ly, you can come on t he payroll at t went y as a flight engineer, said t he
capt ain, who had an excellent memory.
Then feasibly, wit h six or eight years service, you could become a co-pilot ? I pressed.
If s possible, he conceded. In fact , Id say it wouldnt be unusual at all for a capable man t o
make co-pilot in six or eight years, less even.
Are you allowed t o t ell me how much pilot s earn? I asked.
Well, again, t hat depends on seniorit y, t he rout e he flies, t he number of hours he flies each
week and ot her fact ors, said t he capt ain. I would say t he maximum salary for a co-pilot would
be $32,000, a capt ains salary around $50,000.
How many pilot s does Pan Am have? I asked.
The capt ain chuckled. Son, t hat s a t ough one. I dont know t he exact number. But eight een
hundred would probably be a fair est imat e. You can get bet t er figures from t he personnel
manager.
No, t hat s okay, I said. How many places are t hese pilot s?
Youre t alking about bases, he replied. We have five bases in t he Unit ed St at es: San
Francisco, Washingt on D.C., Chicago, Miami and New York. Those are cit ies where our aircrews
live. They report t o work in t hat cit y, San Francisco, say, fly out of t hat cit y and event ually
t erminat e a flight in t hat cit y. It might help you t o know t hat we are not a domest ic carrier, t hat
is, we dont fly from cit y t o cit y in t his count ry. Were st rict ly an int ernat ional carrier, serving
foreign dest inat ions.
The informat ion helped me a lot . This may sound st range t o you, Capt ain, and it s more
curiosit y t han anyt hing else, but would it be possible for me t o be a co-pilot based in New York
Cit y, and you t o be a co-pilot also based in New York, and me never t o meet you?
Very possible, even more so wit h co-pilot s, for you and I would never fly t oget her in t he
same plane, said t he t alkat ive capt ain. Unless we met at a company meet ing or some social
funct ion, which is improbable, we might never encount er one anot her. Youd be more apt t o
know more capt ains and more flight engineers t han co-pilot s. You might fly wit h different
capt ains or different flight engineers and run int o t hem again if youre t ransferred, but youd
never fly wit h anot her co-pilot . Theres only one t o a plane.
Therere so many pilot s in t he syst em, in fact , t hat no one pilot would know all t he ot hers.
Ive been wit h t he company eight een years, and I dont t hink I know more t han sixt y or sevent y
of t he ot her pilot s.
The capt ains verbal pinballs were light ing up all t he light s in my lit t le head.
Ive heard t hat pilot s can fly free, I mean as a passenger, not as a pilot . Is t hat t rue? I
prompt ed.
Yes, said t he capt ain. But were t alking about t wo t hings, now. We have pass privileges.
That is, me and my family can t ravel somewhere by air on a st and-by basis. That is, if t heres
room, we can occupy seat s, and our only cost is t he t ax on t he t icket s. We pay t hat .
Then t heres deadheading. For example, if my boss t old me t onight t hat he want ed me in
L.A. t omorrow t o fly a t rip out of t here, I might fly out t here on Delt a, East ern, TWA or any ot her
carrier connect ing wit h Los Angeles t hat could get me t here on t ime. I would eit her occupy an
empt y passenger seat or, more likely, ride in t he jump seat . That s a lit t le fold-down seat in t he
cockpit , generally used by deadheading pilot s, VIPs or FAA check riders.
Would you have t o help fly t he plane? I quizzed.
Oh, no, he replied. Id be on anot her companys carrier, you see. You might be offered a
cont rol seat as a court esy, but I always decline. We fly on each ot hers planes t o get
somewhere, not t o work. He laughed.
How do you go about t hat , deadheading, I mean? I was really ent hused. And t he capt ain
was pat ient . He must have liked kids.
You want t o know it all, dont you? he said amiably, and proceeded t o answer my quest ion.
Well, it s done on what we call a pink slip. It works t his way. Say I want t o go t o Miami on
Delt a. I go down t o Delt a operat ions, show t hem my Pan Am ID card and I fill out a Delt a pink
slip, st at ing my dest inat ion and giving my posit ion wit h Pan Am, my employee number and my
FAA pilot s license number. I get a copy of t he form and t hat s my jump/ I give t hat copy t o t he
st ewardess when I board, and t hat s how I get t o ride in t he jump seat .
I wasnt t hrough, and he didnt seem t o mind my cont inuing. What s a pilot s license look
like? I asked. Is it a cert ificat e t hat you can hang on t he wall, or like a drivers license, or
what ?
He laughed. No, if s not a cert ificat e you hang on t he wall. If s kind of hard t o describe, really.
If s about t he size of a drivers license, but t heres no pict ure at t ached. It s just a whit e card
wit h black print ing on it .
I decided it was t ime t o let t he nice man go back t o his comfort able seat . Gee, Capt ain, I
sure t hank you, I said. Youve been really super.
Glad t o have helped you, son, he said. I hope you get t hose pilot s wings, if t hat s what you
want .
I already had t he wings. What I needed was an ID card and an FAA pilot s license. I wasnt
t oo concerned about t he ID card. The pilot s license had me st umped. The FAA was not
exact ly a mail-order house.
I let my fingers do t he walking in my search for a suit able ID card. I looked in t he Yellow Pages
under IDENTIFICATION, picked a firm on Madison Avenue (any ID company wit h a Madison
Avenue address had t o have class, I t hought ) and went t o t he firm dressed in a business suit .
It was a prest igious office suit e wit h a recept ionist t o screen t he walk-in t rade. Can I help
you? she asked in efficient t ones.
Id like t o see one of your sales represent at ives, please, I replied in equally businesslike
inflect ions.
The sales represent at ive had t he assured air and manner of a man who would disdain
t alking about a single ID card, so I hit him wit h what I t hought would best get his at t ent ion and
win his affect ion, t he prospect of a big account .
My name is Frank Williams, and I represent Carib Air of Puert o Rico, I said crisply. As you
probably know, we are expanding service t o t he cont inent al Unit ed St at es, and we present ly
have t wo hundred people in our facilit ies at Kennedy. Right now were using only a t emporary
ID card made of paper, and we want t o go t o a formal, laminat ed, plast ic-enclosed card wit h a
color phot ograph and t he company logo, similar t o what t he ot her airlines use here. We want a
qualit y card, and I underst and you people deal only in qualit y product s.
If he knew t hat Carib Air exist ed and was expanding t o t he Unit ed St at es, he knew more
t han I did. But he was not a man t o let t he fact s st and in t he way of a juicy sale.
Oh, yes, Mr. Williams. Let me show you what we have along t hat line, he said
ent husiast ically, leading me t o his office. He pulled down a huge, leat her-bound sample
cat alogue from a shelf, leafed t hrough t he cont ent s, which ranged from vellum t o beaut ifully
wat ermarked bond, and displayed a whole page of various ident ificat ion forms.
Now, most of t he airlines we serve use t his card here, he said, point ing out one t hat
seemed a duplicat e of Pan Ams ID cards. It has employee number, base, posit ion, descript ion,
phot ograph and, if you wish, a company logo. I t hink it would do very nicely.
I nodded in complet e agreement . Yes, I t hink t his is t he card we want , I said. It was cert ainly
t he card I want ed. He gave me a complet e cost rundown, including all t he variables.
Can you give me a sample? I asked on impulse. Id like t o show it t o our t op people, since
t heyre t he ones wholl have t he final say.
The salesman obliged in a mat t er of minut es. I st udied t he card. This is fine, but it s blank, I
said. Tell you what . Why dont we fix t his up, so t heyll have an idea of what t he finished
product looks like? We can use me as t he subject .
That s an excellent suggest ion, said t he salesman, and led me t o an ID camera t hat
produced ID-sized mug shot s wit hin minut es.
He t ook several phot ographs, we select ed one (he graciously gave me t he culls) and he
affixed it t o t he space on t he card, t rimming it neat ly. He t hen filled in my phony name, adopt ed
rank (co-pilot ), fict it ious employee number, height , weight , coloring, age and sex in t he
appropriat e blanks. He t hen sealed it in a clear, t ough plast ic and handed it t o me wit h his
business card.
Im sure we can do a good job for you, Mr. Williams, he said, ushering me out .
He already had done a good job for me, save for one det ail. The lovely ID card lacked Pan
Ams dist inct ive logo and firm name. I was wondering how t o resolve t he problem when a
display in t he window of a hobby shop caught my eye. There, poised on gracefully curved
mount s, was an array of model planes, among t hem several commercial airliners. And among
t hem a beaut iful Pan Am jet , t he firms famed logo on it s t ail, and t he company legend, in t he
copyright ed let t ering used by t he airline, on t he fuselage and wings.
The model came in several sizes. I bought t he smallest , for $2.49, in an unassembled st at e,
and hurried back t o my room. I t hrew t he plane part s away. Following inst ruct ions in t he kit , I
soaked t he decal and let t ering in wat er unt il t hey separat ed from t heir holding base. Bot h t he
logo and t he company name were of microscopically t hin plast ic. I laid t he Pan Am logo on t he
upper left -hand corner of t he ID card and carefully arranged t he firm legend across t he t op of
t he card. The clear decals, when t hey dried, appeared t o have been print ed on t he card.
It was perfect . An exact duplicat e of a Pan Am ident ificat ion card. It would have required an
examinat ion wit h a spect roscope t o reveal t hat t he decals were act ually on t he out side of t he
plast ic seal. I could have clipped t he ID card on my breast pocket and passed must er at a Pan
Am board meet ing.
As a fake pilot , however, I was st ill grounded. I recalled t he words of t he capt ain Id
int erviewed under false pret enses: Your license is t he most import ant t hing. Youve got t o
have it on your person at all t imes when operat ing an aircraft . I carry mine in a folder t hat also
cont ains my ID. Youll be asked t o show your license as oft en as youre asked for your ID.
I mulled t he issue over for days, but could t hink of no solut ion short of working my way
t hrough commercial aviat ion school. I st art ed frequent ing bookst ores again, t humbing t hrough
t he various flying publicat ions. I wasnt sure of what I was looking for, but I found it .
There it was, a small display ad in t he back of one of t he books placed by a plaque-making
firm in Milwaukee t hat cat ered t o professional people. The firm offered t o duplicat e any pilot s
license, engraved in silver and mount ed on a handsome eight -by-eleven-inch hardwood
plaque, for only $35. The company used t he st andard, precut license die used by t he FAA. All a
pilot had t o do was supply t he pert inent informat ion, including his FAA license number and
rat ings, and t he firm would ret urn a silver replica of his license, suit able for display anywhere.
The FAA did have a mail-order branch, it appeared.
I want ed one of t he plaques, nat urally. I felt t here had t o be a way, plaque in hand, t o reduce
it t o t he proper size on appropriat e paper. And Id have my pilot s license!
I was feverish wit h t he idea. I didnt writ e t he firm; I called t heir offices in Milwaukee. I t old t he
salesman I want ed one of t he plaques and asked if t he t ransact ion could be handled by
t elephone.
He expressed no curiosit y as t o why I was in such a hurry. Well, you can give me all t he
necessary informat ion over t he t elephone, but well have t o have a check or money order
before we act ually make up t he plaque, said t he man. In t he meant ime, we can st art roughing
it out and well t reat it as a special order. It ll be $37.50, including post age and special handling.
I didnt quibble. I gave him my alias, Frank Williams. I gave him my spurious age and my correct
weight , height , color of hair and eyes and social securit y number. A pilot s license or cert ificat e
number is always t he same as his social securit y number. I gave myself t he highest rat ing a
pilot can at t ain, an air t ransport rat ing. I t old t he man I was checked out on DC-9s, 727s and
707s. I gave him my address in care of general delivery, New York Cit y (not unusual for
commercial pilot s who spend a lot of t ime in t ransit ), and t old him Id have a money order in t he
mail t hat same day. I had t he money order in t he mail wit hin an hour, in fact . It was t he only
valid draft Id given in several weeks.
The plaque arrived wit hin a week. It was gorgeous. Not only was I cert ified as a pilot in
st erling, but t he license replica even boast ed t he signat ure of t he head of t he Fed eral Aviat ion
Agency.
I t ook t he plaque t o a hole-in-t he-wall print shop in Brooklyn and sought out t he head print er.
Look, Id like t o get my license reduced down so I can carry it in my wallet , you know, like you
would a diploma. Can it be done? I asked.
The print er st udied t he plaque admiringly. Geez, I didnt know pilot s got t his sort of t hing
when t hey learned t o fly, he said. It s fanciern a college diploma.
Well, an act ual license is a cert ificat e, but it s back at my home in L.A., I said. This is
somet hing my girl gave me as a gift . But Ill be based here for several mont hs and I would like t o
have a wallet -sized copy of my license. Can you do it wit h t his or will I have t o send for t he
cert ificat e?
Nah, I can do it from t his, he said, and, using a special camera, he reduced it t o act ual size,
print ed it on heavy whit e st ock, cut it out and handed it t o me. The whole process t ook less
t han t hirt y minut es and cost me five bucks. I laminat ed it wit h t wo pieces of plast ic myself. Id
never seen a real pilot s license, but t his sure as hell looked like one.
I put on my pilot s uniform, which I had had alt ered t o a perfect fit , t ilt ed my cap at a rakish
angle and caught a bus t o La Guardia Airport .
I was ready for flight dut y. Provided someone else flew t he plane.
CHAPTER THREE
Fly a Crooked Sky
There is enchant ment in a uniform, especially one t hat marks t he wearer as a person of rare
skills, courage or achievement .
A parat roopers wings t ell of a special breed of soldier. A submariners dolphin denot es t he
unusual sailor. A policemans blue symbolizes aut horit y. A forest rangers raiment evokes
wilderness lore. Even a doormans gaudy garb st irs vague t hought s of pomp and royalt y.
I felt great in my Pan Am pilot s uniform as I walked int o La Guardia Airport . I obviously was
commanding respect and est eem. Men looked at me admiringly or enviously. Pret t y women
and girls smiled at me. Airport policemen nodded court eously. Pilot s and st ewardesses smiled,
spoke t o me or lift ed a hand in greet ing as t hey passed. Every man, woman and child who
not iced me seemed warm and friendly.
It was heady st uff and I loved it . In fact , I became inst ant ly addict ed. During t he next five
years t he uniform was my alt er ego. I used it in t he same manner a junkie shoot s up on heroin.
Whenever I felt lonely, depressed, reject ed or doubt ful of my own wort h, Id dress up in my
pilot s uniform and seek out a crowd. The uniform bought me respect and dignit y. Wit hout it on,
at t imes, I felt useless and deject ed. Wit h it on, during such t imes, I felt like I was wearing
Fort unat us cap and walking in seven-league boot s.
I milled wit h t he crowd in La Guardias lobby t hat morning, glorying in my make-believe st at us.
I fully int ended t o bluff my way aboard a flight t o a dist ant cit y and st art operat ing my check
swindles t here, but I delayed implement ing my decision. I was having t oo much fun luxuriat ing in
t he at t ent ion and deference I was receiving.
I became hungry. I st epped int o one of t he airport s many coffee shops, dropped ont o a st ool
at t he count er and ordered a sandwich and milk. I was almost finished eat ing when a TWA co-
pilot sat down on a st ool eat er-cornered from me. He looked at me and nodded. He ordered
coffee and a roll, t hen regarded me wit h mild curiosit y.
What s Pan Am doing here at La Guardia? he asked casually. Apparent ly, Pan Am did not
fly out of La Guardia.
Oh, I just deadheaded in from Frisco on t he first flight I could cat ch, I replied. Ill cat ch a
chopper t o Kennedy.
What kind of equipment you on? he asked, bit ing int o his roll.
My brains t urned t o ice cubes. I nearly freaked out . Equipment ? What did he mean,
equipment ? Engines? Cockpit inst rument s? What ? I couldnt recall having heard t he word
before in connect ion wit h commercial airlines. I frant ically searched for an answer for it was
obviously a normal quest ion for him t o ask. I ment ally reread t he reminiscences of t he vet eran
Pan Am capt ain, a lit t le book Id really liked and which Id virt ually adopt ed as a manual. I
couldnt recall his ever using t he word equipment .
It had t o have some significance, however. The TWA airman was looking at me, await ing my
reply. General Elect ric, I said hopefully. It was definit ely not t he right answer. His eyes went
frost y and a guarded look crossed his feat ures. Oh, he said, t he friendliness gone from his
voice. He busied himself wit h his coffee and roll. >
I gulped t he rest of my milk and dropped t hree dollars on t he count er, more t han ample
payment for my snack. I st ood up and nodded t o t he TWA pilot . So long, I said, and headed
for t he door.
Fruzhumt u, he growled. I wasnt sure of his exact words, but t hey sounded suspiciously like
somet hing I couldnt act ually do t o myself.
What ever, I knew I wasnt sufficient ly prepared t o at t empt a deadheading vent ure, despit e
all my prior work and research. It was evident t hat I needed a bet t er command of airline
t erminology, among ot her t hings. As I was leaving t he t erminal, I not iced a TWA st ewardess
st ruggling wit h a heavy bag. Can I help you? I asked, reaching for t he luggage.
She relinquished it readily. Thanks, she said wit h a grin. That s our crew bus just out side
t here.
Just get in? I asked as we walked t oward t he bus.
She grimaced. Yes, and Im pooped. About half t he people in our load were whiskey
salesmen whod been t o a convent ion in Scot land, and you can imagine what t hat scene was
like.
I could, and laughed. What kind of equipment are you on? I asked on impulse.
Seven-o-sevens, and I love em, she said as I heaved her suit case aboard t he bus. She
paused at t he bus door and st uck out her hand. Thanks much, friend. I needed your muscles.
Glad I could help, I said, and meant it . She was slim and elegant , wit h pixie feat ures and
auburn hair. Really at t ract ive. Under ot her circumst ances I would have pressed t o know her
bet t er. I didnt even ask her name. She was lovely, but she also knew everyt hing t here was t o
know about flying passengers from t his place t o t hat one, and a dat e wit h her might prove
embarrassing.
Airline people manifest ly loved t o t alk shop, and at t he moment I obviously wasnt ready t o
punch in at t he fact ory. So equipment was an airplane, I mused, walking t o my own bus. I felt a
lit t le st upid, but halfway back t o Manhat t an I burst out laughing as a t hought came t o mind.
The TWA first officer was probably back in t he pilot s lounge by now, t elling ot her TWA
crewmen hed just met a Pan Am jerk who flew washing machines.
I spent t he next few days in t he boneyard. In t he past Id found my best sources of
informat ion on airlines were airlines t hemselves, so I st art ed calling t he various carriers and
pumping t heir people for informat ion. I represent ed myself as a college st udent doing a paper
on t ransport at ion, as an embryo book aut hor or magazine writ er, or as a cub report er for one of
t he areas dailies.
Generally I was referred t o t he airlines public relat ions depart ment . Airline PR people love t o
t alk about t heir part icular airline, I found. I quickly confirmed my suspicions t hat my aviat ion
educat ion was st rict ly element ary, but wit hin a week I had zoomed t hrough high school and
was working on my bachelors degree.
The airline flacks, a lot of whom had been members of aircrews t hemselves, obligingly filled
me in on a wealt h of juicy fact s and t echnical t idbit s: t he t ypes of jet s used by bot h American
and foreign carriers, fuel capacit ies and speeds, alt it udes, weight limit s, passenger capacit ies,
number of crewmen, weight limit s and ot her such goodies.
I learned, for inst ance, t hat a large number of commercial airline pilot s are drawn from t he
milit ary. Those wit hout an air force or naval aviat ion background had come up from small, bush-
league airlines or were graduat es of privat e flying schools such as Embry-Riddle, I was t old.
Embry-Riddle Aeronaut ical Universit y in Dayt ona Beach, Florida, is t he most respect ed, and
probably t he largest , commercial flight -t raining school in t he nat ion, I was informed. It s t he
Not re Dame of t he air. A kid out of high school, wit h no knowledge of aeronaut ics what soever,
could ent er ground school at Embry-Riddle and leave several years lat er able t o fly any current
jet liner.
Those of our pilot s who didnt come t o us from t he air force or t he navy came t o us from
Embry-Riddle, said one airline flack pridefully.
I knew not hing about t he milit ary. I couldnt t ell a privat e from a vice admiral. So I awarded
myself a scholarship t o Embry-Riddle, graduat ed fant asy cum laude, and t hen gave myself a
few years of myt hical experience wit h East ern Airlines.
As my knowledge of airlines and airline t erminology broadened, my confidence ret urned. I
opened a checking account in t he name of Frank Williams, wit h a post -office box address, and
when my order for t wo hundred personalized checks arrived general delivery, I t ried cashing a
few checks in my guise as an airline pilot .
It was like going on safari in t he Bronx Zoo. Cashiers couldnt get t he money out of t he t ills
fast enough. Most of t hem didnt even ask for ident ificat ion. I shoved my phony ID card and my
ersat z pilot s license in t heir faces anyway. I didnt want my handiwork t o go unnot iced. The
first couple of checks I wrot e were good. The ot hers had all t he value of bubble-gum wrappers.
I st art ed hanging around La Guardia regularly, not wit h any int ent ions of cat ching a flight , but
t o meet airline personnel and t o eavesdrop on airline t alk. Test ing my vocabulary, so t o speak. I
shunned Kennedy, since Pan Am operat ed out of t here. I was afraid t hat t he first Pan Am pilot I
encount ered at Kennedy would recognize me as a fraud, court -mart ial me on t he spot and
st rip me of my wings and but t ons.
At La Guardia I made out like a possum in a persimmon t ree. Some books are judged by t heir
covers, it seems, and in my uniform I was an immediat e best seller. Id walk int o a coffee shop,
where t here would usually be a dozen or more pilot s or ot her crewmen t aking a break, and
invariably someone would invit e me t o join him or t hem. More oft en it was t hem, for airline
people t end t o gaggle like geese. It was t he same in cockt ail lounges around t he airport . I never
t ook a drink in t he bars, since I had yet t o t ry alcohol and wasnt sure how it would affect me,
but no one quest ioned my abst inence.
Any pilot , Id learned, could gracefully decline a drink by pleading t he required t welve hours
bet ween t he bot t le and t he t hrot t le. It apparent ly never occurred t o anyone t hat Id never
seen a t hrot t le. I was always accept ed at par value. I wore t he uniform of a Pan Am pilot ,
t herefore I must be a Pan Am pilot . Barnum would have loved airline people.
I didnt do a lot of t alking init ially. I usually let t he conversat ions flow around me, monit oring
t he words and phrases, and wit hin a short t ime I was speaking airlinese like a nat ive. La
Guardia, for me, was t he Berlit z of t he air.
Some of my language books were absolut ely gorgeous. I guess t he st ewardesses just
werent t hat used t o seeing a really young pilot , one t hat appeared t o be an age peer. Hel-
looo! one would say in passing, put t ing a pret t y move on me, and t he invit at ion in her voice
would be unmist akable. I felt I could t urn down only so many invit at ions wit hout seeming t o be
rude, and I was soon dat ing several of t he girls. I t ook t hem t o dinner, t o t he t heat er, t o t he
ballet , t o t he symphony, t o night clubs and t o movies. Also t o my place or t heir place.
I loved t hem for t heir minds.
The rest of t hem was wonderful, t oo. But for t he first t ime I was more int erest ed in a girls
knowledge of her work t han in her body. I didnt object , of course, if t he one came wit h t he
ot her. A bedroom can be an excellent classroom.
I was an apt st udent . I mean, it t akes a cert ain degree of academic concent rat ion t o learn all
about airline t ravel-expense procedures, say, when someone is bit ing you on t he shoulder and
digging her fingernails int o your back. It t akes a dedicat ed pupil t o say t o a naked lady, Gee, is
t his your flight manual? It s a lit t le different from t he ones our st ewardesses use.
I picked t heir brains discreet ly. I even spent a week in a Massachuset t s mount ain resort wit h
t hree st ewardesses, and not one of t hem was skept ical of my pilot s st at us, alt hough t here
were some doubt s expressed concerning my st amina.
Dont get t he impression t hat st ewardesses, as a group, are promiscuous. They arent . The
myt h t hat all st ewardesses are passionat e nymphs is just t hat , a myt h. If anyt hing, st ews are
more circumspect and discriminat ing in t heir sexual lives t han women in ot her fields. The ones I
knew were all int elligent , sophist icat ed and responsible young women, good in t heir jobs, and I
didnt make out en masse. The ones who were playmat es would have hopped int o bed wit h
me had t hey been secret aries, nurses, bookkeepers or what ever. St ews are good people. I
have very pleasant memories of t he ones I met , and if some of t he memories are more
pleasant t han ot hers, t heyre not necessarily sexually orient ed.
I didnt score at all wit h one I recall vividly. She was a Delt a flight at t endant whom Id met
during my init ial st udies of airline jargon. She had a car at t he airport and offered t o drive me
back t o Manhat t an one aft ernoon.
Would you drop me at t he Plaza? I request ed as we walked t hrough t he lobby of t he
t erminal. I need t o cash a check and Im known t here. I wasnt known t here, but I int ended t o
be.
The st ewardess st opped and gest ured at t he dozens of airline t icket count ers t hat lined
every side of t he huge lobby. There must be more t han a hundred airlines t hat have t icket
facilit ies at La Guardia. Cash your check at one of t hose count ers. Any one of t hem will t ake
your check.
They will? I said, somewhat surprised but managing t o conceal t he fact . It s a personal
check and we dont operat e out of here, you know.
She shrugged. It doesnt mat t er, she said. Youre a Pan Am pilot in uniform, and any airline
here will t ake your personal check as a court esy. They do t hat at Kennedy, dont t hey?
I dont know. Ive never had occasion t o cash a check at a t icket count er before, I said
t rut hfully.
Americans count er was t he nearest . I walked over and confront ed a t icket clerk who wasnt
busy. Can you cash a $100 personal check for me? I asked, checkbook in hand.
Sure, be glad t o, he said, smiling, and t ook t he bouncing beaut y wit h barely a glance at it .
He didnt even ask me for ident ificat ion.
I had occasion t o cash checks at airline count ers frequent ly t hereaft er. I worked La Guardia
like a fox on a t urkey ranch. The air facilit y was so immense t hat t he risk of my being caught
was minimal. Id cash a check at t he East ern count er, for inst ance, t hen go t o anot her sect ion
of t he t erminal and t ap some ot her airlines t ill. I was caut ious. I never went back t o t he same
count er t wice. I worked a condensed version of t he scam at Newark, and hit Tet erboro a few
elast ic licks. I was producing rubber fast er t han a Ceylon plant er.
Every gambler has a road game. Mine was hit t ing t he hot els and mot els where airline crews
put up in t ransit . I even bought a round-t rip airline t icket t o Bost on, an honest t icket paid for
wit h dishonest money, and papered Logan Airport and it s surrounding crew host elries wit h
scenic chit s before scurrying back t o New York.
Flushed wit h success, emboldened by t he ease wit h which I passed myself off as a pilot , I
decided I was finally ready for Operat ion Deadhead.
Id been living in a walk-up flat on t he West Side. Id rent ed t he small apart ment under t he
name Frank Williams and Id paid my rent punct ually and in cash. The landlady, whom I saw only
t o t ender t he rent money, t hought I worked in a st at ionery st ore. None of t he ot her t enant s
knew me and Id never appeared around t he building in my pilot s uniform. I had no t elephone
and Id never received mail at t he address.
When I packed and left t he flat , t here was no t rail t o follow. The best bell-mout hed hound in
t he Blue Ridge Mount ains couldnt have picked up my spoor.
I t ook a bus t o La Guardia and went t o East erns operat ions office. There were t hree young
men working behind t he enclosures count er. Yes, sir, can I help you? one of t hem asked.
I need t o deadhead t o Miami on your next flight , if youve got room, I said, producing my
sham Pan Am ID.
Weve got one going out in fift een minut es, Mr. Williams, he said. Would you like t o make
t hat one, or wait unt il our aft ernoon flight ? The jump seat s open on eit her one.
I didnt want t o t arry. Ill t ake t his flight , I said. It ll give me more t ime on t he beach.
He slid a pink form t oward me. Id never seen one before, but it was familiar because of my
int erview wit h t he helpful Pan Am capt ain. The informat ion elicit ed was minimal: name,
company, employee number and posit ion. I filled it out , handed it back t o him and he popped off
t he t op copy and handed it t o me. I knew t hat was my boarding pass.
Then he picked up t he t elephone and asked for t he FAA t ower, and my st omach was
suddenly full of yellow but t erflies.
This is East ern, he said. Weve got a jump on Flight 602 t o Miami. Frank Williams, co-pilot ,
Pan Am. . . . Okay, t hanks. He hung up t he t elephone and nodded t oward a door out side t he
glass window. You can go t hrough t here, Mr. Williams. The aircraft is boarding at t he gat e t o
your left .
It was a 727. Most of t he passengers had already boarded. I handed my pink slip t o t he
st ewardess at t he door t o t he aircraft and t urned t oward t he cockpit like Id been doing t his for
years. I felt cocky and debonair as I st owed my bag in t he compart ment indicat ed by t he
st ewardess and squeezed t hrough t he small hat ch int o t he cabin.
Hi, Im Frank Williams, I said t o t he t hree men seat ed inside. They were busy wit h what I
lat er learned was a check-off list , and ignored me except for nods of accept ance.
I looked around t he inst rument -crammed cabin and t he but t erflies st art ed flying again. I
didnt see a jump seat , what ever a jump seat looked like. There were only t hree seat s in t he
cockpit and all of t hem were occupied.
Then t he flight engineer looked up and grinned. Oh, sorry, he said, reaching behind me and
closing t he cabin door. Have a seat .
As t he door closed, a t iny seat at t ached t o t he floor clicked down. I eased down int o t he
small perch, feeling t he need for a cigaret t e. And I didnt smoke.
No one said anyt hing else t o me unt il we were airborne. Then t he capt ain, a ruddy-faced
man wit h t int s of silver in his brown hair, int roduced himself, t he-co-pilot and t he flight engineer.
How long you been wit h Pan Am? asked t he capt ain, and I was aware from his t one t hat he
was just making conversat ion.
This is my eight h year, I said, and wished immediat ely Id said six.
None of t he t hree evinced any surprise, however. It apparent ly was a t enure compat ible wit h
my rank. What kind of equipment are you on? queried t he co-pilot .
Seven-o-sevens, I said. I was on DC-8s unt il a couple of mont hs ago.
Alt hough I felt like I was sit t ing on a bed of hot coals all t he way t o Miami, it was really
ridiculously easy. I was asked where I had received my t raining and I said Embry-Riddle. I said
Pan Am had hired me right out of school. Aft er t hat , t he conversat ion was desult ory and
indifferent and most ly among t he t hree East ern officers. Not hing else was direct ed t oward me
t hat might t hreat en my assumed st at us. At one point t he co-pilot , who was handling t raffic,
handed me a pair of earphones and asked if I want ed t o list en in, but I declined, saying I
preferred a rock st at ion. That brought a laugh. I did monit or t heir t alk diligent ly, st oring up t he
slang phrases t hat passed among t hem and not ing how t hey used t he airline jargon. They
were all t hree married and a lot of t heir conversat ion cent ered around t heir families.
The st ewardess who served t he cabin was a cut e lit t le brunet t e. When I went t o t he t oilet I
st opped en rout e back t o t he cockpit and engaged her in a conversat ion. I learned she was
laying over in Miami and before I ret urned t o t he cabin I had made a dat e wit h her for t hat night .
She was st aying wit h a girl friend who lived t here.
I t hanked t he flying officers before deplaning. They casually wished me luck and t he capt ain
said t he jump seat was generally available anyt ime you need it .
Id never been t o Miami before. I was impressed and excit ed by t he colorful t ropical
veget at ion and t he palms around t he t erminal, t he warm sun and t he bright , clean air. The lack
of t all buildings, t he seeming openness of t he landscape, t he gaudy and casual at t ire of t he
people milling around t he airport t erminal made me feel like Id been set down in a st range and
wonderful land. I was inside t he t erminal before I realized I didnt have t he slight est idea where
Pan Am housed it s people in Miami. Well, t here was an easy way t o find out .
I walked up t o t he Pan Am t icket count er and t he girl behind t he count er, who was busy wit h
passengers, excused herself and st epped over t o face me. Can I help you? she asked,
looking at me curiously.
Yes, I said. This is my first layover in Miami. Im here on a replacement st at us. I normally
dont fly t rips in here, and I came in such a hurry t hat no one t old me where t he hell we st ay
here. Where do we lay over here?
Oh, yes, sir, we st ay at t he Skyway Mot el if it s going t o be less t han t went y-four hours, she
responded, suddenly all aid and assist ance.
It will be, I said.
Well, it s only a short dist ance, she said. You can wait on t he crew bus or you can just t ake
a cab over t here. Are you going t o t ake a cab?
I t hink so, I replied. I knew I was going t o t ake a cab. I wasnt about t o get on a bus full of
real Pan Am flight people.
Wait a minut e, t hen, she said and st epped over t o her st at ion. She opened a drawer and
t ook out a claim-check-sized card and handed it t o me. Just give t hat t o any of t he cab
drivers out front . Have a good st ay.
Damned if it wasnt a t icket for a free cab ride, good wit h any Miami cab firm. Airline people
lived in t he proverbial land of milk and honey, I t hought as I walked out of t he t erminal. I liked
milk and I knew I was in t he right hive when I checked in at t he mot el. I regist ered under my
phony name and put down General Delivery, New York, as my address. The regist rat ion clerk
t ook t he card, glanced at it , t hen st amped AIRLINE CREW in red ink across it s face.
Ill be checking out in t he morning, I said.
She nodded. All right . You can sign t his now if you want , and you wont have t o st op by here
in t he morning.
Ill just sign it in t he morning, I replied. I might run up some charges t onight . She shrugged
and filed t he card.
I didnt see any Pan Am crewmen around t he mot el. If t here were any around t he pool, where
a lively crowd was assembled, I drew no at t ent ion from t hem. In my room, I changed int o casual
at t ire and called t he East ern st ewardess at t he number shed given me.
She picked me up in her friends car and we had a ball in t he Miami Beach night spot s. I didnt
put any moves on her, but I wasnt being gallant . I was so t urned on by t he success of my first
advent ure as a bogus birdman t hat I forgot about it . By t he t ime I remembered, shed dropped
me at t he Skyway and gone home.
I checked out at 5:30 t he next morning. There was only a sleepy-faced night clerk on dut y
when I ent ered t he lobby. He t ook my key and gave me my room bill t o sign.
Can I get a check cashed? I asked as I signed t he t ab.
Sure, do you have your ID card? he said.
I handed it t o him and wrot e out a check for $100, payable t o t he hot el. He copied t he
fict it ious employee number from my fake ID card ont o t he back of t he check and handed me
back my ID and five $20 bills. I t ook a cab t o t he airport and an hour lat er deadheaded t o Dallas
on a Braniff flight . The Braniff flight officers were not inquisit ive at all, but I had a few t ense
moment s en rout e. I wasnt aware t hat Pan Am didnt fly out of Dallas. I was aware t hat
deadheading pilot s were always supposed t o be on business.
What t he hell are you going t o Dallas for? t he co-pilot asked in casually curious t ones. I
was searching for a reply when he gave me t he answer. You in on a chart er or somet hing?
Yeah, freight , I said, knowing Pan Am had worldwide freight service, and t he subject was
dropped.
I st ayed overnight at a mot el used by flight crews of several airlines, st ung t he inn wit h a
$100 bum check when I left in t he morning and deadheaded t o San Francisco immediat ely. It
was a procedural pat t ern I followed, wit h variat ions, for t he next t wo years. Modus operandi,
t he cops call it .
Mine was a ready-made scam, one for which t he airlines, mot els and hot els set t hemselves
up. The hot els and mot els around met ropolit an or int ernat ional airport s considered it just good
business, of course, when t hey ent ered int o agreement s wit h as many airlines as possible t o
house t ransit flight crews. It assured t he host elries of at least a minimum rat e of occupancy,
and no doubt most of t he operat ors felt t he presence of t he pilot s and st ewardesses would
at t ract ot her t ravelers seeking lodging. The airlines considered it a desirable arrangement
because t he carriers were guarant eed room space for t heir flight crews, even during
convent ions and ot her fest ive affairs when rooms were at a premium. I know from numerous
conversat ions on t he subject t hat t he flight crews liked t he plan whereby t he airlines were
billed direct ly for lodging and allot t ed meals. It simplified t heir expense-account bookkeeping.
The deadheading arrangement bet ween airlines everywhere in t he world was also a syst em
based on good business pract ices. It was more t han a court esy. It afforded a maximum of
mobilit y for pilot s and co-pilot s needed in emergency or essent ial sit uat ions.
However, supervision, audit ing or ot her wat chdog procedures concerning t he agreement s
and arrangement s were pat ent ly, at least during t hat period, lax, sloppy or nonexist ent . Airport
securit y, underst andably, was minimal at t he t ime. Terrorist raids on t erminals and plane
hijackings were yet t o become t he vogue. Airport s, small cit ies t hat t hey are in t hemselves, had
a low crime rat io, wit h t heft t he common problem.
No one, apparent ly, save under ext reme circumst ances, ever went behind t he pink jump
forms and checked out t he request ing pilot s bona fides. The deadheading form consist ed of
an original and t wo copies. I was given t he original as a boarding pass and I gave t hat t o t he
st ewardess in charge of boarding. I knew t he operat ions clerk always called t he FAA t ower t o
inform t he t ower operat ors t hat such-and-such flight would have a jump passenger aboard,
but I didnt know t hat a copy of t he pink pass was given t he FAA. Presumably, t he t hird copy
was kept in t he operat ions files of t he part icular airline. An airline official who made a
st at ement t o police concerning my escapades offered what seemed t o him a logical
explanat ion:
You simply dont expect a man in a pilot s uniform, wit h proper credent ials and obvious
knowledge of jump procedures, t o be an impost or, dammit !
But I have always suspect ed t hat t he majorit y of t he jump forms I filled out ended up in t he
t rash, original and bot h copies.
There were ot her fact ors, t oo, t hat weighed t he odds in my favor. I was not at first a big
operat or. I limit ed t he checks I cashed at mot els, hot els and airline count ers t o $100, and not
infrequent ly I was t old t here wasnt enough cash on hand t o handle a check for more t han $50
or $75. It always t ook several days for one of my wort hless checks t o t raverse t he clearing-
house rout es t o New York, and by t he t ime t he check was ret urned st amped insufficient
funds, I was a long t ime gone. The fact t hat I had a legit imat e (on t he face of it , at least )
account had a bearing on my success also. The bank didnt ret urn my checks wit h t he not at ion
wort hless, fraudulent or forgery. They merely sent t hem back marked insufficient funds
t o cover.
Airlines and host elries do a volume business by check. Most of t he checks ret urned t o t hem
because of insufficient funds arent at t empt s t o defraud. It s usually a bad case of t he short s
on t he part of t he people who t endered t he checks. In most inst ances, such persons are
locat ed and t heir checks are made good. In many cases involving checks I passed, t he checks
were first placed for collect ion before any at t empt t o locat e me was made t hrough Pan Am. In
many ot her inst ances, Im sure, t he vict imized business simply wrot e off t he loss and didnt
pursue t he mat t er.
Those who did usually t urned t he mat t er over t o local police, which furt her aided and
abet t ed me. Very few police depart ment s, if any, have a hot -check division or bunco squad
t hat is adequat ely st affed, not even met ropolit an forces.
And no det ect ive on any police force is burdened wit h a case load heavier t han t he officer
assigned t o t he check-fraud det ail. Fraudulent check swindles are t he most common of crimes,
and t he professional paperhanger is t he wiliest of criminals, t he hardest t o nab. That s t rue
t oday and it was t rue t hen, and it s no reflect ion on t he abilit ies or det erminat ion of t he officers
involved. Their success rat io is admirable when you consider t he number of complaint s t hey
handle daily. Such policemen usually work on priorit ies. Say a t eam of det ect ives is working on
a bum-check operat ion involving phony payroll checks t hat s bilking local merchant s of $10,000
weekly, obviously t he handiwork of a ring. They also have a complaint from a jeweler who lost a
$3,000 ring t o a hot -check art ist . And one from a banker whose bank cashed a $7,500
count erfeit cashiers check. Plus a few dozen cases involving resident forgers. Now t heyre
handed a complaint from a mot el manager who says he lost $100 t o a con art ist posing as an
airline pilot . The offense occurred t wo weeks past .
So what do t he det ect ives do? They make t he rout ine gest ures, t hat s what . They ascert ain
t he mans New York address is a phony. They learn Pan Am has no such pilot on it s payroll.
Maybe t hey go so far as t o det ermine t he impost or bilked t he one airline out of a free ride t o
Chicago, Det roit , Philadelphia, Los Angeles or some ot her dist ant point . They put a message t o
whichever cit y is appropriat e on t he police t elet ype and pigeonhole t he complaint for possible
fut ure reference, t hat s what t hey do. Theyve done as much as t hey could.
And like t he bumblebee, I kept flying and making honey on t he side.
So it s not t oo amazing t hat I could operat e so freely and brazenly when you consider t he
last t wo fact ors in my hypot hesis. The Nat ional Crime Informat ion Cent er (NCIC) did not exist
as a police t ool during t he period. Had I had t o cont end wit h t he comput erized police link, wit h
it s vast and awesome reservoir of criminal fact s and figures, my career would probably have
been short ened by years. And last ly, I was pioneering a scam t hat was so implausible, so
seemingly impossible and so brass-balled blat ant t hat it worked.
In t he last mont hs of my advent ures, I ran int o a Cont inent al capt ain wit h whom I had
deadheaded a couple of t imes. It was a t ense moment for me, but he dispelled it wit h t he
warmt h of his greet ing. Then he laughed and said, You know, Frank, I was t alking t o a Delt a
st ewardess a couple of mont hs ago and she said you were a phony. I t old her t hat was bullshit ,
t hat youd handled t he cont rols of my bird. What d you do t o t hat girl, boy, kick her out of bed?
My advent ures. The first few years t hat s exact ly what t hey were for me, advent ures.
Advent ures in crime, of course, but advent ures nonet heless.
I kept a not ebook, a surrept it ious journal in which I jot t ed down phrases, t echnical dat a,
miscellaneous informat ion, names, dat es, places, t elephone numbers, t hought s and a collect ion
of ot her dat a I t hought was necessary or might prove helpful.
It was a combinat ion log, t ext book, lit t le black book, diary and airline bible, and t he longer I
operat ed, t he t hicker it became wit h ent ries. One of t he first not at ions in t he not ebook is glide
scopes. The t erm was ment ioned on my second deadhead flight and I jot t ed it down as a
reminder t o learn what it meant . Glide scopes are runway approach light s used as landing
guides. The journal is crammed wit h all sort s of t rivia t hat was invaluable t o me in my sham role.
If youre impersonat ing a pilot it helps t o know t hings like t he fuel consumpt ion of a 707 in flight
(2,000 gallons an hour), t hat planes flying west maint ain alt it udes at even-numbered levels
(20,000 feet , 24,000 feet , et c.) while east -bound planes fly at odd-numbered alt it udes (19,000
feet , 27,000 feet , et c.), or t hat all airport s are ident ified by code (LAX, Los Angeles; JFK or LGA,
New York, et c.).
Lit t le t hings mean a lot t o a big phony. The names of every flight crew I met , t he t ype of
equipment t hey flew, t heir rout e, t heir airline and t heir base went int o t he book as some of t he
more useful dat a.
Like Id be deadheading on a Nat ional flight .
Where you guys out of?
Oh, were Miami-based.
A sneak look int o my not ebook, t hen: Hey, hows Red doing? One of yous got t a know Red
ODay. How is t hat Irishman?
All t hree knew Red ODay. Hey, you know Red, huh?
Yeah, Ive deadheaded a couple of t imes wit h Red. Hes a great guy.
Such exchanges reinforced my image as a pilot and usually avert ed t he mild cross-
examinat ions t o which Id been subject ed at first .
Just by wat ching and list ening I became adept in ot her t hings t hat enhanced my pose. Aft er
t he second flight , whenever I was offered a pair of earphones wit h which t o list en in on airline
t raffic, I always accept ed, alt hough a lot of pilot s preferred a squawk box, in which case no
earphones were needed.
I had t o improvise a lot . Whenever Id deadhead int o a cit y not used by Pan Am, such as
Dallas, and didnt know which mot els or hot els were used by airline crews, Id simply walk up t o
t he nearest airline t icket count er. List en, Im here t o work a chart er t hat s coming in t omorrow.
Where do t he airlines st ay around here? Id ask.
I was always supplied wit h t he name or names of a nearby inn or inns. Id pick one, go t here
and regist er, and I was never challenged when I asked t hat Pan Am be billed for my lodging. All
t hey asked was Pan Ams address in New York.
At int ervals Id hole up in a cit y for t wo or t hree weeks for logist ics purposes. Id open an
account in, say, a San Diego bank, or a Houst on bank, giving t he address of an apart ment Id
rent ed for t he occasion (I always rent ed a pad t hat could be had on a mont h-t o-mont h basis),
and when my lit t le box of personalized checks arrived, I would pack up and t ake t o t he airways
again.
I knew I was a hunt ed man, but I was never sure how closely I was being pursued or who was
in t he posse t hose first t wo years. Any t raveling con man occasionally get s t he jit t ers, cert ain
hes about t o be collared, and I was no except ion. Whenever I got a case of t he whibbies, Id go
t o eart h like a fox.
Or wit h a fox. Some of t he girls I dat ed came on pret t y st rong, making it apparent t hey
t hought I was marriage mat erial. I had a st anding invit at ion from several t o visit t hem in t heir
homes for a few days and get t o know t heir parent s. When I felt t he need t o hide out , Id drop
in on t he nearest one and st ay for a few days or a week, rest ing and relaxing. I hit it off well
wit h t he parent s in every inst ance. None of t hem ever found out t hey were aiding and abet t ing
a juvenile delinquent .
When I felt t he sit uat ion was cool again, Id t ake off, promising t he part icular girl t hat Id
ret urn soon and wed t alk about our fut ure. I never went back, of course. I was afraid of
marriage.
Besides, my mot her would not have permit t ed it . I was only sevent een.
CHAPTER FOUR
If Im a Kid Doctor,
Wheres My Jar
of Lollipops?
Nat ional Flight 106, New Orleans t o Miami. A rout ine deadheading decept ion. I was now
polished in my pet t ifoggery as a pilot wit hout port folio. I had grown confident , even cocky, in my
pre-empt ing of cockpit jump seat s. Aft er t wo hundred duplicit ous flight s, I occupied a jump seat
wit h t he same assumpt ion of a Wall St reet broker in his seat on t he st ock exchange.
I even felt a lit t le nost algic as I st epped int o t he flight cabin of t he DC-8. My first fraudulent
flight had been on a Nat ional carrier t o Miami. Now, t wo years lat er, I was ret urning t o Miami,
and again on a Nat ional jet . I t hought it appropriat e.
Hi, Frank Williams. Nice of you t o give me a lift , I said wit h acquired poise, and shook hands
all around. Capt ain Tom Wright , aircraft commander, fort ies, slight ly rumpled look of
compet ence. First Officer Gary Evans, early t hirt ies, dapper, wit h amused feat ures. Flight
Engineer Bob Hart , lat e t went ies, skinny, serious demeanor, new uniform, a rookie. Nice guys.
The kind I liked t o soft -con.
A st ewardess brought me a cup of coffee as we t axied t oward t he runway. I sipped t he brew
and wat ched t he plane t raffic on t he st rip ahead. It was lat e Sat urday night , moonless, and t he
aircraft , dist inguishable only by t heir int erior light s and flickering exhaust s, dipped and soared
like light ning bugs. I never ceased t o be fascinat ed by air t raffic, night or day.
Wright was apparent ly not one t o use t he squawk box. All t hree officers had headset s, and
none of t he t hree had offered me a set for monit oring. If you werent offered, you didnt ask.
The cockpit of a passenger plane is like t he capt ains bridge on a ship. Prot ocol is rigidly
observed, if t hat s t he t one set by t he skipper. Tom Wright operat ed his jet by t he book, it
seemed. I didnt feel slight ed. The conversat ion bet ween t he t hree and t he t ower was clipped
and cursory, rat her unint erest ing, in fact , as most such one-sided exchanges are.
Suddenly it was real int erest ing, so int erest ing t hat I st art ed t o pucker at bot h ends.
Wright and Evans exchanged arch-browed, quizzical looks, and Hart was suddenly regarding
me wit h solemn-eyed int ensit y. Then Wright t wist ed around t o face me. Do you have your
Pan Am ident ificat ion card? he asked.
Uh, yeah, I said and handed it t o him, st omach quaking as Wright st udied t he art ist ic fake.
This is Nat ional 106 back t o t ower. . . uh, yes, I have an ID card here . . . Pan Am . . . looks fine. . .
. Employee number? Uh, t hree-five-zero-niner-niner. . . . Uh-huh. . . . Uh, yeah. M-mm, just a
moment .
He t urned again t o me. Do you have your FAA license?
Yes, of course, I said, at t empt ing t o act puzzled and keep my bladder under cont rol. It was
bulging like a Dut ch dike at high t ide.
Wright examined t he forgery closely. He was t he first real pilot t o inspect t he illicit license. He
scrut inized it wit h t he int ensit y of an art expert judging t he aut hent icit y of a Gauguin. Then:
Uh, yeah. FAA license, number zero-seven-five-t hree-six-six-eight -zero-five. . . . Yes . . . mul-
t iengine . . . check-out ATR. . . . Looks fine t o me ... I see not hing wrong wit h it . ... Uh, yes, six
foot , brown hair, brown eyes. . . . Okay, you got it .
He t wist ed and handed back my ID card and t he purport ed license, his face reflect ing a
mixt ure of chagrin and apology. I dont know what t hat was all about , he said wit h a shrug,
and did not ask me if I had any ideas on t he subject .
I did, but I didnt volunt eer any of t hem. I t ried t o convince myself t hat not hing was amiss,
t hat t he t ower operat or in New Orleans was just overly officious, or doing somet hing he
t hought he should be doing. Maybe, I t old myself, t here was an FAA regulat ion requiring such
an inquiry and t he t ower operat or was t he first t o observe t he rule in my experiences, but t hat
didnt wash. It had clearly been an unusual incident for Tom Wright .
The t hree officers seemed t o have dismissed t he mat t er. They asked t he usual quest ions
and I gave t he usual answers. I t ook part when t he conversat ion was indust ry-orient ed,
list ened polit ely when t he t hree t alked of t heir families. I was nervous all t he way t o Miami, my
insides as t ight ly coiled as a rat t ler in a prickly pear pat ch.
Wright had no sooner t ouched down in Miami t han t he sword of Damocles was once more
suspended over my head. The ominous one-sided conversat ion commenced while we were
t axiing t o t he dock.
Yeah, we can do t hat . No problem, no problem, Wright said curt ly in answer t o some query
from t he t ower. Take over, Ill be right back, he said t o Evans, get t ing out of his seat and
leaving t he flight cabin.
I knew t hen wit h cert aint y t hat I was in t rouble. No capt ain ever vacat ed his seat while
t axiing save under ext reme circumst ances. I managed t o peer around t he cabin-door combing.
Wright was engaged in a whispered conversat ion wit h t he chief st ewardess. There was no
doubt in my mind t hat I was t he subject of t he conversat ion.
Wright said not hing when he ret urned t o his seat . I assumed a casual mien, as if not hing was
amiss. I sensed t hat any overt nervousness on my part could prove disast rous, and t he
sit uat ion was already cast ast rophic.
I was not surprised at all when t he jet way door opened and t wo uniformed Dade Count y
sheriffs officers st epped aboard. One t ook up a posit ion blocking t he exit of t he passengers.
The ot her poked his head in t he flight cabin.
Frank Williams? he asked, his eyes dart ing from man t o man.
Im Frank Williams, I said, get t ing out of t he jump seat .
Mr. Williams, would you please come wit h us? he said, his t one court eous, his feat ures
pleasant .
Cert ainly, I said. But what s t his all about , anyway?
It was a quest ion t hat also int rigued t he t hree flight officers and t he st ewardesses. All of
t hem were looking on wit h inquisit ive expressions. None of t hem asked any quest ions,
however, and t he officers did not sat isfy t heir curiosit y. Just follow me, please, he inst ruct ed
me, and led t he way out t he exit door. His part ner fell in behind me. It was a mat t er of
conject ure on t he part of t he flight crew as t o whet her or not I had been arrest ed. No
references had been made t o arrest or cust ody. I was not placed in handcuffs. Neit her officer
t ouched me or gave t he impression I was being rest rained.
I had no illusions. Id been bust ed.
The officers escort ed me t hrough t he t erminal and t o t heir pat rol car, parked at t he front
curb. One of t he deput ies opened t he right rear door. Will you get in, please, Mr. Williams. We
have inst ruct ions t o t ake you downt own.
The officers said not hing t o me during t he ride t o t he sheriffs offices. I remained silent
myself, assuming an air of puzzled indignat ion. The deput ies were clearly uncomfort able and I
had a hunch t his was an affair in which t hey werent really sure of t heir role.
I was t aken t o a small room in t he det ect ive division and seat ed in front of a desk. One of t he
deput ies seat ed himself in t he desk chair while t he ot her st ood in front of t he closed door.
Neit her man made an effort t o search me, and bot h were overly polit e.
The one behind t he desk cleared his t hroat nervously. Mr. Williams, t here seems t o be some
quest ion as t o whet her you work for Pan Am or not , he said, more in explanat ion t han
accusat ion.
What ! I exclaimed. Why t hat s crazy! Heres my ID and heres my FAA license. Now you t ell
me who I work for. I slapped t he phony document s down on t he desk, act ing as if Id been
accused of selling nuclear secret s t o t he Russians. He examined t he ID card and t he pilot s
license wit h obvious embarrassment and passed t hem t o t he second officer, who looked at
t hem and handed t hem back wit h a nervous smile. They bot h gave t he impression t heyd just
arrest ed t he President for jaywalking.
Well, sir, if youll just bear wit h us, Im sure we can get t his st raight ened out , t he one behind
t he desk observed. This really isnt our deal, sir. The people who asked us t o do t his will be
along short ly.
Okay, I agreed. But who are t hese people? He didnt have t o t ell me. I knew. And he didnt
t ell me.
An uncomfort able hour passed, more uncomfort able for t he officers t han for me. One of
t hem left for a short t ime, ret urning wit h coffee, milk and sandwiches, which t hey shared wit h
me. There was lit t le conversat ion at first . I act ed miffed and t hey act ed like I should have been
act inglike t hey want ed t o be somewhere else. Oddly enough, I grew relaxed and confident
as t ime passed, dropped my pose of right eous indignat ion and t ried t o ease t heir obvious
discomfit ure. I t old a couple of airline jokes and t hey st art ed t o relax and ask me quest ions
about my experiences as a pilot and t he t ypes of planes I flew.
The queries were casual and general, but of t he kind designed t o est ablish if I was a bona-
fide airline pilot . One of t he officers, it developed, was a privat e pilot himself, and at t he end of
t hirt y minut es he looked at his part ner and said, You know, Bill, I t hink someones made a
helluva mist ake here.
It was near midnight when t he someone arrived. He was in his lat e t went ies, wearing an Ivy
League suit and a serious expression. He ext ended a credent ials folder in which nest led a gold
shield. Mr. Williams? FBI. Will you come wit h me, please?
I t hought we were going t o t he FBI offices, but inst ead he led me t o an adjoining office and
shut t he door. He flashed a friendly smile. Mr. Williams, I was called over here by t he Dade
Count y aut horit ies, who, it seems, were cont act ed by some federal agency in New Orleans.
Unfort unat ely, t he officer who t ook t he call didnt t ake down t he callers name or t he agency he
represent ed. He t hought it was our agency. It wasnt . We really dont know what t he problem is,
but apparent ly t heres some quest ion as t o whet her you work for Pan Am.
Frankly, Mr. Williams, were in a bit of a quandary. Weve been proceeding on t he assumpt ion
t he complaint is legit imat e, and were t rying t o clarify t he mat t er one way or t he ot her. The
problem is, t he employee records are in New York and t he Pan Am offices are closed over t he
weekend. He paused and grimaced. Like t he deput ies, he wasnt cert ain he was on firm
ground.
I work for Pan Am, as you will learn when t he offices open Monday morning, I said, affect ing
a calmly indignant at t it ude. In t he meant ime, what do you do? Put me in jail? If you int end t o
do t hat , I have a right t o call a lawyer. And I int end . . .
He cut me off wit h a raised hand, palm out ward. Look, Mr. Williams, I know what t he sit uat ion
is, if youre for real, and I have no reason t o believe you are not . List en, do you have any local
superiors we can cont act ?
I shook my head. No, Im based in L.A. I just deadheaded in here t o see a girl, and I was going
t o deadhead back t o t he Coast Monday. I know a lot of pilot s here, but t heyre wit h ot her
airlines. I know several st ewardesses, t oo, but again t heyre wit h ot her carriers.
May I see your credent ials, please?
I handed over t he ID card and FAA license. He inspect ed t he t wo document s and ret urned
t hem wit h a nod. Tell you what , Mr. Williams, he offered. Why dont you give me t he names of
a couple of pilot s you know here, and t he names of some of t he st ewardesses, t oo, who can
verify your st at us. I dont know what t his is about , but it s obviously a federal sit uat ion and Id
like t o resolve it .
I fished out my book of fact s and names and gave him t he names and t elephone numbers of
several pilot s and st ewardesses, hoping all t he while some of t hem were home and
remembered me fondly. And as an act ual pilot .
I really was a hot pilot at t he moment , I t hought wryly while await ing t he FBI agent s ret urn,
but so far Id been incredibly lucky concerning t he sit uat ion. Obviously, t he FAA t ower operat or
in New Orleans had quest ioned my st at us and had made an effort t o pursue his doubt s. What
had aroused his suspicions? I didnt have t he answer and I wasnt going t o seek one. The
sheriffs office had commit t ed a faux pas in bobbling t he source of t he inquiry, and t he FBI
agent was apparent ly compounding t he error by ignoring t he FAA as a source of informat ion.
That puzzled me, t oo, but I wasnt going t o raise t he quest ion. If a check wit h t he FAA did
occur t o him, I would really be in t he grease.
I spent an anxious fort y-five minut es in t he room alone and t hen t he agent popped t hrough
t he door. He was smiling. Mr. Williams, youre free t o go. I have confirmat ion from several
persons as t o your st at us, and I apologize for t he inconvenience and embarrassment I know
weve caused you. Im really sorry, sir.
A Dade Count y sheriffs sergeant was behind him. I want t o add our apologies, t oo, Mr.
Williams. It wasnt our fault . Just a damned mix-up. It was an FAA complaint from New Orleans.
They asked us t o pick you up when you got off t he plane and, well, we didnt know where t o go
from t here, so I cont act ed t he local FBI and, well, Im just sorry as hell about it , sir.
I didnt want t he FBI agent t o pick up on t he FAA bit . The sergeant had obviously correct ed
his depart ment s error. I spread my hands in a peace gest ure and smiled. Hey, dont worry
about it . I underst and, and Im glad you guys are doing your job. I wouldnt want anyone flying
around masquerading as a pilot , eit her.
We appreciat e your being so nice about it , Mr. Williams, said t he sergeant . Oh, your bag is
over t here by my desk.
Obviously it hadnt been searched. There was more t han $7,000 in currency st ashed in t he
bot t om, among my underwear. I got t a go, gent lemen, I said, shaking hands wit h each of t hem.
Ive got a girl wait ing, and if she doesnt believe t his wild t ale, I may be calling one of you.
The FBI agent grinned and handed me his card. Call me, he said. Especially if she has a
beaut iful friend.
I split like a jack rabbit . Out side, I hailed a cab and had t he driver t ake me t o t he bus st at ion.
The companys on an economy kick, I said as I paid him off. A smile replaced t he quizzical
expression on his face.
I went int o t he bus st at ion rest room and changed out of my uniform, grabbed anot her cab
and went st raight t o t he airport . The earliest flight leaving Miami, depart ing wit hin t hirt y
minut es, was a Delt a hop t o At lant a. I bought a one-way t icket on t he flight under t he name
Tom Lom-bardi and paid cash for it . But I didnt t ot ally relax unt il we were at cruising alt it ude
and flying west . Once, during t he short flight , I t hought about t he young FBI agent and hoped
his boss didnt find out how t he kid had goofed. The agent didnt seem t he t ype whod enjoy a
t our of dut y in Tucumcari, New Mexico, or Nogales, Arizona.
There was a girl in At lant a, an East ern st ewardess. In any cit y, t here was always a girl. I t old
t his one I was on a six-mont h holiday, accumulat ed leave and sick t ime. I t hought Id spend a
couple mont hs in At lant a, I said.
Make t hat one mont h, Frank, she said. Im being t ransferred t o New Orleans in t hirt y days.
But you can put up here unt il t hen.
It was a very pleasant and relaxing mont h, at t he end of which I rent ed a t ruck and moved
her t o New Orleans. She want ed me t o st ay wit h her t here for t he remainder of my vacat ion,
but I didnt feel comfort able in New Orleans. My inst inct s t old me t o get t he hell away from t he
Crescent Cit y, so I went back t o At lant a, where, for reasons I didnt at t empt t o fat hom, I felt
hidden and secure.
The singles complex was a st ill-rare innovat ion in apart ment const ruct ion at t he t ime. One of
t he most elegant in t he nat ion was River Bend, locat ed on t he out skirt s of At lant a. It was a
sprawling, spa-like clust er of apart ment unit s boast ing a golf course, an Olympic-sized pool,
saunas, t ennis court s, a gymnasium, game rooms and it s own club. One of it s advert isement s
in t he At lant a Journal caught my eye and I went out t o scout t he premises.
I dont smoke. Ive never had an urge t o t ry t obacco. I didnt drink at t he t ime, and st ill dont
save on rare occasions. I didnt have any quarrel wit h alcohol or it s users. My abst inence was
part of t he role I was playing. When I first began masquerading as a pilot I had t he impression
t hat pilot s didnt drink t o any great degree, so I abst ained on t he premise t hat it would
reinforce my image as a flyer. When I learned t hat some pilot s, like ot her people, get soused t o
t he follicle pit s under permissible circumst ances, Id lost all int erest in drinking.
My one sensuous fault was women. I had a Cyprian lust for t hem. The River Bend ad had
t out ed it as a scint illat ing place t o live, and t he builder was obviously a firm advocat e of t rut h
in advert ising. River Bend sparkled wit h scint illat ors, most of t hem young, leggy, lovely, shapely
and clad in revealing clot hing. I inst ant ly decided t hat I want ed t o be one of t he bulls in t his
Georgia peach orchard.
River Bend was bot h expensive and select ive. I was given a lengt hy applicat ion t o fill out
when I t old t he manager I want ed t o lease a one-bedroom unit for one year. The form
demanded more informat ion t han a prospect ive mot her-in-law. I elect ed t o st ay Frank W.
Williams since all t he phony ident ificat ion wit h which I had supplied myself was in t hat name. I
paused at t he space for occupat ion. I want ed t o put down airline pilot , for I knew t hat t he
uniform would at t ract girls like a buck rub lures a doe. But if I did t hat Id have t o specify Pan Am
as my employer, and t hat made me wary. Maybe, just maybe, someone in t he managers office
might check wit h Pan Am.
On impulse, not hing more, I put down medical doct or as my occupat ion. I left t he spaces for
relat ives and references blank and, hopeful it would dist ract at t ent ion from t he quest ions Id
ignored, I said Id like t o pay six mont hs rent in advance. I put t went y-four $100 bills on t op of
t he applicat ion.
The assist ant manager who accept ed t he applicat ion, a woman, was inquisit ive. Youre a
doct or? she asked, as if doct ors were as rare as whooping cranes. What t ype of doct or are
you?
I t hought Id bet t er be t he kind of doct or t hat would never be needed around River Bend. Im
a pediat rician, I lied. However, Im not pract icing right now. My pract ice is in California, and Ive
t aken a leave of absence for one year t o audit some research project s at Emory and t o make
some invest ment s.
That s very int erest ing, she said, and t hen looked at t he pile of $100 bills. She gat hered
t hem up briskly and dropped t hem int o a st eel cash box in t he t op drawer of her desk. It ll be
nice having you wit h us, Dr. Williams.
I moved in t he same day. The one-bedroom pad wasnt overly large, but it was elegant ly
furnished, and t here was ample room for t he act ion I had in mind.
Life at River Bend was fascinat ing, delight ful and sat isfying, if somet imes frenet ic. There was
a part y in someones pad almost every night , and side act ion all over t he place. I was generally
invit ed t o be a part of t he scene, what ever it was. The ot her t enant s accept ed me quickly, and
save for casual inquiries, easily handled, made no effort t o pry int o my personal life or affairs.
They called me Doc, and of course t here were t hose few who dont different iat e bet ween
doct ors. This guy had a complaint about his foot . That one had myst erious pains in his
st omach. There was a brunet t e who had an odd, t ight feeling around her upper chest .
Im a pediat rician, a baby doct or. You want a podiat rist , a foot doct or, I t old t he first man.
Im not licensed t o pract ice in Georgia. I suggest you t alk t o your own doct or, I t old t he
ot her one.
I examined t he brunet t e. Her brassiere was t oo small.
No sea offers calm sailing all t he t ime, however, and one Sat urday aft ernoon I encount ered a
squall t hat quickly built int o a t ragicomic hurricane.
I answered a knock on my door t o face a t all, dist inguished-looking man in his middle fift ies,
casually at t ired but st ill managing t o appear impeccably groomed. He had a smile on his
pleasant feat ures and a drink in his hand.
Dr. Williams? he said, and assuming he was correct , proceeded t o t he point . Im Dr. Willis
Granger, chief resident pediat rician of Smit hers Pediat ric Inst it ut e and General Hospit al in
Mariet t a.
I was t oo st unned t o reply and he went on wit h a grin, Im your new neighbor. Just moved in
yest erday, right below you. The assist ant manager, Mrs. Prell, t old me you were a pediat rician. I
couldnt help but come up and int roduce myself t o a colleague. Im not int errupt ing anyt hing,
am I?
Uh, nono, not at all, Dr. Granger. Come in, I said, hoping hed refuse. He didnt . He walked
in and set t led on my sofa.
Whered you go t o school, here? he asked. It was a normal quest ion for doct ors meet ing, I
suppose.
I knew only one college t hat had a school of medicine. Columbia Universit y in New York, I
said, and prayed he wasnt an alumnus.
He nodded. A great school. Whered you serve your int ernship?
Int ernship. That was done in a hospit al, I knew. Id never been in a hospit al. Id passed a lot of
t hem, but t he name of only one st uck in my mind. I hoped it was t he kind of hospit al t hat had
int erns. Harbor Childrens Hospit al in Los Angeles, I said and wait ed.
Hey, t errific, he said, and much t o my relief dropped t he personal line of probing.
You know, Smit hers is a new facilit y. Ive just been appoint ed t o head up t he pediat rics st aff.
It ll be a seven-st ory hospit al when it s finished, but weve got only six floors open at t he
moment , and not t oo much t raffic as yet . Why dont you come up and have lunch wit h me
some aft ernoon and let me show you around t he place. Youll like it , I t hink.
That sounds great , Id love it , I replied, and soon aft erward he left . I was suddenly glum and
depressed in t he wake of his visit , and my first impulse was t o pack and get t he hell out of
River Bend, if not At lant a. Granger living right below me posed a definit e t hreat t o my exist ence
at River Bend.
If I st ayed, it would be only a mat t er of t ime before hed know I was a phony, and I doubt ed
hed let it go at t hat . Hed probably call in t he aut horit ies.
I was t ired of running. Id been on t he run for t wo years, and at t he moment I wasnt recalling
t he excit ement , glamour and fun of it all; I just want ed a place t o call home, a place where I
could be at peace for a while, a place where I had some friends. River Bend had been t hat
place for t wo mont hs, and I didnt want t o leave. I was happy at River Bend.
A st ubborn anger replaced my depression. To hell wit h Granger. I wouldnt let him force me
back t o t he paper-hangers circuit . Id just avoid him. If he came t o visit , Id be busy. When he
was in, Id be out .
It wasnt t hat easy. Granger was a likable man and a gregarious one. He st art ed showing up
at t he part ies t o which I was invit ed. If he wasnt invit ed, hed invit e himself. And he was soon
one of t he most popular men in t he complex. I couldnt avoid him. When hed see me abroad,
hed hail me and st op me for a chat . And when he knew I was at home, hed call on me.
Granger had a saving grace. He wasnt one t o t alk shop. He preferred t o t alk about t he many
lovely women hed met at River Bend, and t he fun he was having wit h t hem. You know, I was
never really a bachelor, Frank, he confided. I got married young, a marriage neit her of us
should have ent ered int o, and we st ayed wit h it t oo long. Why, I dont know. But Im having a
ball, now. I feel like a t hirt y-year-old man again. Or hed t alk polit ics, world affairs, cars, sport s,
et hics and anyt hing else. He was a learned and art iculat e man, informed on an amazing range
of subject s.
I st art ed t o relax around Granger. In fact , I found him enjoyable company and even st art ed
seeking him out . Wary t hat t he subject of pediat rics would recur sooner or lat er, however, I
st art ed spending a lot of t ime in t he At lant a library, reading books by pediat ricians, medical
journals wit h art icles on childrens medicine and any ot her available print ed mat t er t hat dealt
wit h t he subject . I quickly acquired a broad general knowledge of pediat rics, enough
knowledge, I felt , t o cope wit h any casual conversat ions concerning pediat rics.
I felt well-enough informed, aft er several weeks of st udy, in fact , t o accept Grangers
invit at ion t o have lunch wit h him at t he hospit al.
He met me in t he lobby and prompt ly int roduced me t o t he recept ionist . This is Dr. Williams,
a friend of mine from Los Angeles and, unt il he ret urns t o California, my neighbor. Im not sure
why I was int roduced t o t he recept ionist , unless Granger t hought he was being helpful. She
was a lovely young woman.
A similar int roduct ion was made frequent ly during an exact ing t our of t he hospit al. We visit ed
every depart ment . I met t he hospit al administ rat or, t he chief radiologist , t he head of physical
t herapy, t he head nurse, int erns, ot her doct ors and dozens of nurses. We had lunch in t he
hospit al cafet eria, and from t he number of doct ors and nurses who joined us at t he dorm-t ype
t able where we sat , it was obvious Dr. Granger was a popular and well-liked man.
I ret urned t o t he hospit al frequent ly t hereaft er, chiefly because of Brenda St rong, a nurse I
had met t here and st art ed dat ing, but also because t he hospit al had a large medical library
wit h up-t o-t he-minut e books, journals and medical magazines dealing wit h every facet of
pediat rics.
I could browse around in t he library as long as I want ed, which was somet imes hours, wit hout
arousing any suspicions. In fact , I learned my frequent use of t he library earned me respect
beyond professional recognit ion from t he hospit als st aff doct ors. Most of t he doct ors t hink
youre pret t y sharp, keeping up in your field even t hough youre on a leave of absence, Brenda
t old me.
I t hink youre pret t y sharp, t oo.
She was t hirt y, a ripe, luscious brunet t e wit h a zest for making it . I somet imes wondered
what shed t hink if she knew her lover was an eight een-year-old fraud. However, I never
t hought of myself as a t een-ager anymore, save on rare occasions. When I looked in a mirror, I
saw a mat ure man of t went y-five or t hirt y and t hat s how I felt about myself, t oo. Id been just
an advent urous boy when I alt ered my chronological age, but my ment al clock, during t he past
t wo years, had set it self ahead t o correspond.
St ill, Id always had mat ure t ast es in women. There were several t ant alizing candy-st ripers
among t he volunt eer st aff of t he hospit al, all in t heir lat e t eens, but I was never at t ract ed t o
any one of t hem. I preferred sophist icat ed, experienced women in t heir t went ies or older. Like
Brenda.
Aft er several visit s t o t he hospit al, my init ial t repidat ions dissipat ed, I began t o enjoy my
spurious role as a medico. I experienced t he same vicarious pleasures, t he same ego boost s, Id
known as a bogus pilot .
Id walk down t he corridor on one of t he hospit al floors and a pret t y nurse would smile and
say, Good morning, Dr. Williams.
Or Id encount er a group of st aff int erns and t heyd nod respect fully and chant in unison,
Good aft ernoon, Dr. Williams.
Or Id encount er one of t he senior st aff physicians and hed shake hands and say, Good t o
see you again, Dr. Williams.
And all day long Id go around feeling like Hippocrat es in my hypocrit es mant le. I even st art ed
sport ing a t iny gold caduceus in my lapel.
No one t ried t o put me in a corner. I had no problems at all unt il one aft ernoon, following
lunch wit h Granger and Brenda, I was leaving t he hospit al when John Colt er, t he administ rat or,
hailed me.
Dr. Williams! May I see you just a moment , sir. Wit hout wait ing for an answer, he headed
st raight for his office nearby.
Oh, shit , I said, and didnt realize Id said it aloud unt il a passing orderly gave me a grin. I had
an impulse t o bolt , but suppressed t he urge. Colt ers voice had not reflect ed any irrit at ion or
doubt . The request , while brusque, seemed devoid of suspicion. I followed him int o his office.
Doct or, have a seat , please, said Colt er, mot ioning t o a comfort able lounge chair as he
set t led behind his desk. I relaxed immediat ely. He was st ill addressing me as doct or, and his
manner now was almost ingrat iat ing.
Colt er, in fact , seemed embarrassed. He cleared his t hroat . Dr. Williams, Im about t o ask you
for a very big favor, a favor I have no right t o ask, Colt er said wit h a wry grimace. I know t hat
what Im about t o propose will be imposing on you, but Im in a box, and I t hink youre t he man
who can solve my problem. Will you help me?
I looked at him, perplexed. Well, Ill be happy t o, if I can, sir, I replied caut iously.
Colt er nodded and his t one became brisk. Heres my problem, Doct or. On my midnight -t o-
eight shift , I have a resident who supervises seven int erns and about fort y nurses. He had a
deat h in t he family t his aft ernoon, a sist er in California. Hes left t o go out t here, and will be
gone about t en days. Doct or, Ive got nobody t o cover t hat shift . Nobody. If youve been
keeping up wit h t he sit uat ion here, and I know from your act ivit ies t hat you have, you know
weve got a severe short age of doct ors in At lant a at t he moment . I cant find a doct or t o
replace Jessup, and I cant do it myself. Im not a medical doct or, as you know.
I cant use an int ern. The law requires a general pract it ioner or a specialist in one of t he
medical fields be t he supervising resident of a hospit al like t his. Do you follow me?
I nodded. I was following him, but in t he same manner a jackal follows a t iger. Way back.
Colt er plunged on. Now, Dr. Granger t ells me youre pret t y well unencumbered here, t hat
you spend a lot of t ime around your apart ment , just t aking it easy and playing wit h t he girls.
He held up a hand and smiled. No offense, Doct or. I envy you.
His voice became pleading. Dr. Williams, could you come up here and just sit around for t en
days from midnight t o eight ? You wont have t o do anyt hing, I assure you. Just be here, so I
can meet t he st at es requirement s. I need you, Doct or. Well pay you well, Doct or. Hell, as a
bonus, Ill even put Nurse St rong on t he shift for t he t en days. I t ell you, Doct or, Im in a bind. If
you refuse me, I dont know what t he hell I can do.
The request ast onished me, and I prompt ly object ed. Mr. Colt er, Id like t o help you, but
t heres no way I could agree, I prot est ed.
Oh, why not ? Colt er asked.
Well, in t he first place, I dont have a license t o pract ice medicine in Georgia, I began, but
Colt er silenced me wit h an emphat ic shake of his head.
Well, you wouldnt really be doing anyt hing, said Colt er. Im not asking t hat you act ually
t reat pat ient s. Im just asking t hat you act in a st and-in capacit y. As for a license, you dont
really need one. You have a California license, and California st andards are as high as, if not
higher t han, Georgia st andards, and recognized by our medical associat ion. All I have t o do,
Doct or, is t o bring you before a panel of five doct ors, licensed by t his st at e and members of t his
hospit als st aff, for an int erview conference, and t hey have t he aut horit y t o ask t he st at e for a
t emporary medical cert ificat e t hat will allow you t o pract ice in Georgia. Doct or, Id like t o have
t hat conference in t he morning. What do you say?
Reason t old me t o refuse. There were t oo many hazards t o my post ure involved. Any one of
t he quest ions t hat might be asked me on t he morrow could st rip me of my pret ense and
expose me for t he doct or I was in realit y. A snake-oil specialist .
But I was challenged. Well, if t heres not t hat much difficult y involved, and if it wont t ake a
lot of my t ime, Ill be happy t o help you out , I agreed. Now, specifically, what will be my dut ies?
Mine has been an office pract ice
only, you know. Save for calling on pat ient s t hat Ive had t o admit for one reason or anot her, I
know not hing of hospit al rout ines.
Colt er laughed. He was obviously relieved and happy. Hot dog! Your dut y? Just be here,
Doct or. Walk around. Show yourself. Play poker wit h t he int erns. Play grab-ass wit h t he nurses.
Hell, FrankIm gonna call you Frank because youre a friend of mine, nowdo anyt hing you
want t o do. Just be here!
I did have misgivings when I walked int o t he conference room t he next morning t o face t he
five doct ors. I knew all of t hem from my frequent visit s t o t he hospit al, and Granger headed up
t he panel. He flashed me a conspirat orial grin as I walked in.
The int erview was a farce, much t o my delight . I was asked only basic quest ions. Whered I
go t o medical school? Whered I int ern? My age? Where did I pract ice? How long had I been a
pract icing pediat rician? Not one of t he doct ors posed a quest ion t hat would have t est ed any
medical knowledge I might have possessed. I walked out of t he conference wit h a let t er
appoint ing me t emporary resident supervisor on t he st aff of t he hospit al, and t he next day
Granger brought me anot her let t er from t he st at e medical board aut horizing me t o use my
California medical cert ificat e t o pract ice in Georgia for a period of one year.
One of my favorit e t elevision programs is M*A*S*H, t he seriocomic st ory of a fict ional Army
medical unit on t he Korean War front . I never see a M*A*S*H segment wit hout recalling my
medical career at Smit hers. I imagine t here are several doct ors in Georgia t oday who also
cant view t he program wit hout memories of a cert ain resident supervisor.
My first shift set t he t one for all my subsequent dut y t ours. I was aware from t he moment I
accept ed Colt ers plea t hat t here was only one way I could carry out my monument al bluff. If I
was going t o fake out seven int erns, fort y nurses and lit erally dozens of support personnel, I
was going t o have t o give t he impression t hat I was somet hing of a buffoon of t he medical
profession.
I decided Id have t o project t he image of a happy-go-lucky, easygoing, always-joking rascal
who couldnt care less whet her t he rules learned in medical school were kept or not . I put my
act on t he road t he minut e I arrived for dut y t he first night and was met by Brenda in t he R.S.s
office. Colt er had not been jest ing, it seemed. She was smiling.
Here you are, Doct or, your smock and your st et hoscope, she said, handing t hem t o me.
Hey, you dont have t o work t his dog shift , I said, shrugging int o t he whit e garment . When
Colt er said hed assign you t o t his shift , I t hought he was kidding. Ill t alk t o him t omorrow.
She flashed an impish look. He didnt assign me, she said. I asked t he head nurse t o put
me on t his shift for t he durat ionyour durat ion.
I prompt ly donned t he earpieces of t he st et hoscope and reached inside her blouse t o apply
t he disk t o her left breast . I always knew your heart was in t he right place, Nurse St rong, I
said. What s t he first order of business t onight ?
Not t hat , she said, pulling my hand away. I suggest you make a floor check before you
st art t hinking about a bed check.
The pediat rics ward t ook in t he ent ire sixt h floor of t he hospit al. It included t he nursery, wit h
about a dozen newborn babies, and t hree wings for children convalescing from illness, injury or
surgery, or children admit t ed for diagnosis or t reat ment . There were about t went y children,
ranging in age from t wo t o t welve, in my charge. Fort unat ely, t hey werent t echnically under my
care, since each was in t he care of his or her own pediat rician who prescribed all t reat ment and
medicat ion.
Mine was st rict ly a supervisors or observers role, alt hough I was expect ed t o be t he medical
doct or available
for any emergencies. I hoped t here wouldnt be any emergencies, but I had a plan for such a
cont ingency. I spent t he first night cult ivat ing t he int erns, who were act ually t he guardians of
t he pat ient s. All of t hem want ed t o be pediat ricians, and t he sixt h floor was an excellent
proving ground. They seemed t o me, aft er several hours of wat ching t hem, t o be as compet ent
and capable as some of t he st aff doct ors, but I wasnt really in a posit ion t o pass judgment . It
would have been akin t o an illit erat e cert ifying Einst eins t heory of relat ivit y.
But I sensed before morning t hat t he int erns, t o a man, liked me as a supervisor and werent
likely t o cause a flap.
The first shift was lazy, pleasant and unevent ful unt il about 7 A.M., when t he nurse in charge
of t he sixt h-floor st at ion cont act ed me. Doct or, dont forget before you go off dut y t hat you
need t o writ e chart s for me, she said.
Uh, yeah, okay, get t hem ready for me, I said. I went up t o t he st at ion and looked over t he
st ack of chart s she had ready for me. There was one for each pat ient , not ing medicat ion given,
t imes, t he names of t he nurses and int erns involved and inst ruct ions from t he at t ending
physician. That s your space, said t he nurse, point ing t o a blank area on t he chart opposit e
t he heading SUPERVISING
RESIDENTS COMMENTS.
I not iced t he ot her doct ors involved had writ t en in Lat in. Or Greek. Or maybe it was just t heir
normal handwrit ing. I sure couldnt read it .
I sure as hell didnt want anyone reading what I wrot e, eit her. So I scribbled some
hieroglyphics all over each chart and signed my name in t he same indecipherable manner in
each inst ance.
There you go, Miss Murphy, I said, handing back t he chart s. Youll not e I gave you an A.
She laughed. I got a lot of laughs during t he following shift s wit h my wisecracking manner,
seeming irreverence for serious subject s and zany act ions. For example, an obst et rician came
in early one morning wit h one of his pat ient s, a woman in t he last t hroes of labor. You want t o
scrub up and look in on t his? I t hink it s going t o be t riplet s, he asked.
No, but Ill see you have plent y of boiling wat er and lot s of clean rags, I quipped. Even he
t hought it was hilarious.
But I knew I was t reading on t hin ice, and about 2:30 A.M. at t he end of my first week, t he ice
st art ed cracking. Dr. Williams! To Emergency, please. Dr. Williams! To Emergency, please.
I had so far avoided t he emergency ward, and it was my underst anding wit h Colt er t hat I
wouldnt have t o handle emergency cases. There was supposed t o be a st aff doct or manning
t he emergency ward. I presumed t here was. I hat e t he sight of blood. I cant st and t he sight of
blood. Even a lit t le blood makes me ill. I once passed near t he emergency ward and saw t hem
bringing in an accident vict im. He was all bloody and moaning, and I hurried t o t he nearest t oilet
and vomit ed.
Now here I was being summoned t o t he emergency room. I knew I couldnt say I hadnt heard
t he announcement t wo nurses were t alking t o me when t he loudspeaker blared t he
messagebut I dawdled as much as possible en rout e.
I used t he t oilet first . Then I used t he st airs inst ead of t he elevat or. I knew my delay might be
harmful t o whomever needed a doct or, but it would be just as harmful if I rushed t o t he
emergency ward. I wouldnt know what t o do once I got t here. Especially if t he pat ient was
bleeding.
This one wasnt , fort unat ely. It was a kid of about t hirt een, whit e-faced, propped up on his
elbows on t he t able and looking at t he t hree int erns grouped around him. The int erns looked at
me as I st opped inside t he door.
Well, what do we have here? I asked.
A simple fract ure of t he t ibia, about five inches below t he pat ella, it looks like, said t he
senior int ern, Dr. Hollis Cart er. We were just get t ing ready t o t ake some X rays. Unless we find
somet hing more severe, Id say put him in a walking cast and send him home.
I looked at Carl Farnswort h and Sam Bice, t he ot her t wo int erns. Dr. Farnswort h? He
nodded. I concur, Doct or. It may not even be broken.
How about you, Dr. Bice?
I t hink t hat s all weve got here, if t hat much, he said.
Well, gent lemen, you dont seem t o have much need of me. Carry on, I said and left . I
learned lat er t he kid had a broken shin bone, but at t he t ime he could have needed eyeglasses
for all I knew.
I had ot her emergency-ward calls in ensuing night s, and each t ime I let t he int erns handle
t he sit uat ion. I would go in, quest ion one of t hem as t o t he nat ure of t he illness or injury and
t hen ask him how he would t reat t he pat ient . On being t old, Id confer wit h one or bot h of t he
ot her int erns who were usually present . If he or t hey concurred, Id nod aut horit at ively and say,
All right , Doct or. Have at it .
I didnt know how well my at t it ude set wit h t he int erns concerning such incident s, but I soon
found out . They loved it . They t hink youre great , Frank, said Brenda.
Young Dr. Cart er especially t hinks youre t errific. I heard him t elling some friends of his
visit ing from Macon how you let him get real pract ice, t hat you just come in, get his comment s
on t he sit uat ion and let him proceed. He says you make him feel like a pract icing doct or.
I smiled. Im just lazy, I replied.
But I realized aft er t he first shift t hat I needed some help. I locat ed a pocket dict ionary of
medical t erms, and t hereaft er when Id hear t he int erns or nurses ment ion a word or phrase,
t he meaning of which I didnt know, Id slip upst airs t o t he unfinished sevent h floor, go int o one
of t he empt y linen closet s and look up t he word or words. Somet imes Id spend fift een or
t went y minut es in t he closet just leafing t hrough t he dict ionary.
On what I t hought would be my last night in t he guise of resident supervisor, Colt er sought
me out . Frank, I know Ive got no right t o ask t his, but I have t o. Dr. Jessup isnt coming back.
Hes decided t o st ay and pract ice in California. Now, Im pret t y sure I can find a replacement
wit hin a couple of weeks, so could I presume on you t o st ay t hat long? He wait ed, a pleading
look on his face.
He caught me at t he right t ime. I was in love wit h my role as doct or. I was enjoying it almost
as much as my pret ense of airline pilot . And it was much more relaxing. I hadnt writ t en a bad
check since assuming t he pose of pediat rician. In fact , since t aking t he t emporary posit ion at
Smit hers, I hadnt even t hought about passing any wort hless paper. The hospit al was paying
me a $125-a-day consult ant s fee, payable weekly.
I clapped Colt er on t he back. Sure, John, I agreed. Why not ? Ive got not hing else Id rat her
do at t he moment .
I was confident I could carry t he scam for anot her t wo weeks, and I did, but t hen t he t wo
weeks became a mont h and t he mont h became t wo mont hs, and Colt er st ill hadnt found a
replacement for Jessup. Some of t he confidence began t o wane, and at t imes I was nagged by
t he t hought t hat Colt er, or some doct or on t he st aff, even Granger, maybe, might st art
checking int o my medical credent ials, especially if a st icky sit uat ion developed on my shift .
I maint ained my cocky, t o-hell-wit h-rules-and-regula-t ions demeanor wit h t he int erns, nurses
and ot hers under my nominal command, and t he midnight -t o-eight shift st aff cont inued t o
support me loyally. The nurses t hought I was a darling kook and appreciat ed t he fact t hat I
never t ried t o corner t hem in an unoccupied room. The int erns were proud t o be on my shift .
Wed developed a real camaraderie, and t he young doct ors respect ed me. They t hought I was
wacky, but compet ent . You dont t reat us like t he ot her st aff doct ors, Dr. Williams, Cart er
confided. When t hey walk in while were t reat ing a pat ient , t hey say Move aside/ and just t ake
over. You dont . You let us go ahead and handle t he case. You let us be real doct ors.
I sure as hell did. I didnt know a damned t hing about medicine. Those young doct ors didnt
know it unt il years lat er, but t hey were t he sole reason I was able t o keep up my medical
masquerade. When t hings got t oughat least t ough for me, and a headache was t oo st out
for my medical knowledge Id leave it t o t he int erns and flee t o my linen closet on t he
sevent h floor.
Fort unat ely, during my t enure at Smit hers, I was never faced wit h a life-or-deat h sit uat ion,
but t here were t icklish posit ions where only my ant ics mien saved me. Early one morning, for
inst ance, an obst et rics t eam nurse sought me out . Dr. Williams, we just delivered a baby, and
Dr. Mart in was called across t he hall t o do a Caesarian sect ion while we were st ill t ying t he
cord. He asks if youd be kind enough t o make a rout ine examinat ion of t he child.
I couldnt very well refuse. I was chat t ing wit h t wo nurses on my shift at t he t ime t he request
was made. Ill help you, Dr. Williams, volunt eered t he one, Jana St ern, a dedicat ed RN who
was at t ending medical school herself and hoped t o be a pediat rician specializing in newborns.
She led t he way t o t he nursery and I reluct ant ly followed. I had somet imes paused out side
t he plat e-glass window of t he nursery t o look at t he t iny, wrinkled newborns in t heir incubat ors
or box-like bassinet s, but Id never gone inside. They reminded me of so many mewling kit t ens,
and Ive always been slight ly leery of cat s, even lit t le ones.
I st art ed t o shove open t he door of t he nursery and Nurse St ern grabbed my arm. Doct or!
she gasped.
Whaf s wrong? I asked, looking around desperat ely for one of my t rust y int erns.
You cant go in like t hat ! she scolded me. You have t o scrub up and put on a smock and
mask. You know t hat ! She handed me a green jacket and a st erile mask.
I grimaced. Help me on wit h t hese damned t hings, I growled. Why do we need a mask? Im
only gonna look at t he kid, not st ick him up. I realized why I needed a mask. I was t rying t o
cover. And I did. She clucked. Honest , Doct or, youre t oo much at t imes, she said in
exasperat ed t ones.
It was a baby boy, st ill glist ening redly from his rough passage t hrough t he narrow channel of
life. He regarded me wit h a lugubrious expression. Okay, kid, t ake a deep breat h and milk it
back, I commanded in mock milit ary t one, st art ing t o apply my st et hoscope t o t he babys
chest .
Nurse St ern grabbed my arm again, laughing. Doct or! You cant use t hat st et hoscope on a
newborn! You use a pediat rics st et hoscope. She bust ed out and ret urned wit h a smaller
version of t he one I held. I hadnt known t hey came in sizes. Will you quit fooling around,
please? Weve got a lot of work t o do.
I st epped back and waved at t he baby. Tell you what , Dr. St ern. You examine t he boy. Id
like t o check your st yle.
She rose t o t he bait . Well, I can do it , she said, as if Id insult ed her, but st ill visibly pleased.
She applied t he st et hoscope, t hen draped it around her neck and proceeded t o manipulat e t he
babys arms, legs and hips, peered int o his eyes, ears, mout h and anus and ran her hands over
his head and body. She st epped back and st ared at me challengingly. Well?
I leaned down and kissed her on t he forehead. Thank you, Doct or, youve saved my only
son, I said wit h mock t earfulness.
The baby had lost his doleful look. No one is really cert ain if newborn infant s have t hought s
or are aware of what is going on around t hem. No one but me, t hat is. That kid knew I was a
phony. I could see it in his face.
I examined several newborns aft er t hat . I never knew what I was doing, of course, but , t hanks
t o Nurse St ern, I knew how t o do it .
But I st ill spent a lot of t ime in my sevent h-floor linen closet .
There were t imes, t oo, Im sure, when my t omfool demeanor irked people. Like t he night , in
t he elevent h mont h of my impersonat ion, when a nurse rushed up t o t he nursing st at ion where
I was writ ing my undecipherable comment s on chart s. Dr. Williams! Weve got a blue baby in
608! Come quickly. She was a new nurse, barely a mont h out of school. And Id nipped her wit h
one of my pract ical jokes. Her first night on dut y Id t old her t o bring me a bucket of st eam t o
t he nursery. I want t o st erilize t he place. Shed eagerly rushed off t o t he boiler room, where a
helpful int ern had st eered her.
Oddly enough, in t he eleven mont hs Id posed as a doct or, Id never heard t he t erm blue
baby. I t hought she was get t ing back at me.
Ill be right along, I said, but first Ive got t o check t he green baby in 609. When I made no
move, she rushed off, shout ing for one of t he int erns. I st epped around t he corner and
consult ed my medical dict ionary. I learned a blue baby was one suffering from cyanosis, or lack
of oxygen in t he blood, usually due t o a congenit al heart defect . I t ook off for Room 608, and
was relieved t o find one of my int erns had bailed me out again. He was adjust ing a port able
oxygen t ent around t he infant . Ive called his doct or. Hes on his way. Ill handle it unt il he get s
here, if it s all right wit h you, sir.
It was all right wit h me. The incident shook me. I realized I was playing a role t hat had
reached it s limit s. Id been lucky so far, but I suddenly knew some child could die as a result of
my impersonat ion. I det ermined t o seek out Colt er and resign, and I det ermined not t o be
swayed by any ent reat ies.
He sought me out inst ead.
Well, Frank, you can go back t o being a playboy, he said cheerfully. Weve got a new
resident supervisor. Got him from New York. Hell be here t omorrow.
I was relieved. I dropped around t he next day t o pick up my final paycheck and wasnt at all
disappoint ed when I didnt meet my replacement . I was leaving t he hospit al when I
encount ered Jason, t he elderly janit or on t he midnight -t o-eight shift .
Youre coming t o work a lit t le early, arent you, Jason? I asked.
Workin a double shift t oday, Doct or, said Jason.
If you havent heard, Jason, I wont be around anymore, I said. They finally found a
replacement .
Yes, sir, I heard, said Jason. He looked at me quizzically. Doct or, can I ask you somet hin?
Sure, Jason. Anyt hing. I liked him. He was a nice old man.
He drew a deep breat h. Doct or, you never knowed it , but I always spent my relaxin t ime up
t here on t he sevent h floor. And, Doct or, for nearly a year now I been seein you go in a linen
closet up t here. You never go in wit h anyt hin, and you never come out wit h anyt hin. I know
you dont drink, and, Doct or, t here aint not hin in t hat closet , not hin! I done searched it a
dozen t imes. Doct or, my curiosit ys about t o drive me t o drink. Just what did you do in t hat linen
closet , Doct or? I wont t ell nobody, I swear!
I laughed and hugged him. Jason, I was cont emplat ing my navel in t hat closet . That s all. I
swear it .
But I know he never believed me. Hes probably st ill inspect ing t hat closet .
CHAPTER FIVE
A Law Degree Is Just An Illegal Technicality
A week aft er I severed my connect ion wit h t he hospit al, my lease at Balmorhea came up for
renewal and I decided t o leave At lant a. There was no compulsion for me t o go; at least I felt
none, but I t hought it unwise t o st ay. The fox who keeps t o one den is t he easiest caught by
t he t erriers, and I felt I had nest ed t oo long in one place. I knew I was st ill being hunt ed and I
didnt want t o make it easy for t he hounds.
I lat er learned t hat my decision t o leave At lant a was an ast ut e one. About t he same t ime, in
Washingt on, D.C., FBI Inspect or Sean ORiley was ordered t o drop all his ot her cases and
concent rat e solely on nabbing me. ORiley was a t all, dour man wit h t he count enance of an
Irish bishop and t he t enacit y of an Airedale, an out st anding agent dedicat ed t o his job, but an
eminent ly fair man in all respect s.
I came t o admire ORiley, even while making every effort t o t hwart his t ask and t o embarrass
him professionally. If ORiley has any personal feelings concerning me, I am cert ain animosit y is
not among such emot ions. ORiley is not a mean man.
Of course, I had no knowledge of ORileys exist ence, even, at t he t ime I vacat ed At lant a.
Save for t he young special agent in Miami, and t he Dade Count y officers Id encount ered t here,
t he officers on my case were all phant oms t o me.
I decided t o hole up for a mont h or so in t he capit al cit y of anot her sout hern st at e. As usual, I
was prompt ed in my choice by t he fact t hat I knew an airline st ewardess t here. I was yet t o find
a more delight ful influence on my act ions t han a lovely woman.
Her name was Diane and I had known her int ermit t ent ly for about a year. I had never flown
wit h her, having met her in t he At lant a airport t erminal, and she knew me under t he alias
Robert F. Conrad, a Pan Am first officer, an allonym I used on occasion. I was forced t o maint ain
t he nom de plume wit h her, for we developed a close and pleasing relat ionship, during t he
course of which, init ially, she had delved int o my personal background, including my educat ional
hist ory. Most pilot s have a college degree, but not all of t hem majored in t he aeronaut ical
sciences. I t old Diane t hat I had t aken a law degree but had never pract iced, since a career as
an airline pilot had loomed as not only more excit ing but also much more lucrat ive t han law.
She readily accept ed t he premise t hat a man might shun t he court room for t he cockpit .
She also remembered my concoct ed law degree. A few days aft er my arrival in her cit y she
t ook me t o a part y st aged by one of her friends and t here int roduced me t o a pleasant fellow
named Jason Wilcox.
You t wo ought t o get along. Jason is one of our assist ant st at es at t orneys, Diane t old me.
She t urned t o Wilcox. And Bob here is a lawyer who never hung out his shingle. He became a
pilot inst ead.
Wilcox was immediat ely int erest ed. Hey, whered you go t o law school?
Harvard, I said. If I was going t o have a law degree, I t hought I might as well have one from a
prest igious source.
But you never pract iced? he asked.
No, I said. I got my Commercial Pilot s License t he same week I t ook my mast ers in law,
and Pan Am offered me a job as a flight engineer. Since a pilot makes $30,000 t o $40,000, and
since I loved flying, I t ook t he job. Maybe someday Ill go back t o law, but right now I fly only
eight y hours a mont h. Not many pract icing lawyers have it t hat good.
No, youre right t here, Wilcox agreed. Where do you fly t o? Rome? Paris? All over t he
world, I guess.
I shook my head. Im not flying at t he moment , I said. Ive been furloughed. The company
made a personnel cut back last mont h and I didnt have seniorit y. It may be six mont hs or a year
before t hey call me back. Right now Im just loafing, drawing unemployment . I like it .
Wilcox st udied me wit h bemused eyes. Howd you do at Harvard? he asked. I felt he was
leading up t o somet hing.
Pret t y well, I guess, I replied. I graduat ed wit h a 3.8 average. Why?
Well, t he at t orney general is looking for lawyers for his st aff, Wilcox replied. In fact , hes
really in a bind. Why dont you t ake t he bar here and join us? Ill recommend you. The job
doesnt pay an airline pilot s salary, of course, but it pays bet t er t han unemployment . And youll
get in some law pract ice, which sure as hell couldnt hurt you.
I almost reject ed his proposal out right . But t he more I t hought about it , t he more it int rigued
me. The challenge again. I shrugged. What would it ent ail for me t o t ake t he bar examinat ion
in t his st at e? I asked.
Not much, really, said Wilcox. Just t ake a t ranscript from Harvard over t o t he st at e bar
examiners office and apply t o t ake t he bar. They wont refuse you. Of course, youd have t o
bone up on our civil and criminal st at ut es, but Ive got all t he books youd need. Since youre
from anot her st at e, youll be allowed t hree cracks at t he bar here. You shouldnt have any
t rouble.
A t ranscript from Harvard. That might prove difficult , I mused, since t he universit y and I were
st rangers. But t hen Id never had any pilot s t raining, eit her. And I had a valid-appearing FAA
pilot s license in my pocket st at ing I was qualified t o fly passenger jet s, didnt I? My bumblebee
inst inct s began buzzing.
I wrot e t o t he regist rar of t he Harvard Law School and asked for a fall schedule and a law
school cat alogue, and wit hin a few days t he request ed mat erial was deposit ed in my mailbox.
The cat alogue list ed all t he courses necessary for a doct or of law from Harvard, and it also
boast ed some lovely logos and let t erheads. But I st ill didnt have t he foggiest not ion of what a
college t ranscript looked like.
Diane was an Ohio Universit y graduat e, who had majored in business administ rat ion. I
casually engaged her in a conversat ion revolving around her st udent years.
She had been heavily involved in campus act ivit ies, it developed, somet hing of a playgirl in
college. You must not have done much st udying, I said jest ingly.
Oh, yes, I did, she maint ained. I had a 3.8 average. In fact , I was on t he deans list my senior
year. You can have fun and st ill make good grades, you know.
Aw, come on! I dont believe you had t hat kind of average. Id have t o see your t ranscript t o
believe t hat , I prot est ed.
She grinned. Well, smart -ass, I just happen t o have one, she said, and ret urned from her
bedroom a few minut es lat er wit h t he document .
The t ranscript consist ed of four legal-sized sheet s of. lined paper and was, in fact , a cert ified
phot ocopy of her four years of college work, at t est ed t o and not arized by t he regist rar. The
first page was headed by t he name of t he universit y in large, bold let t ers, beneat h which
appeared t he st at e seal of Ohio. Then came her name, t he year she had graduat ed, t he
degree she had received and t he college (College of Business Administ rat ion) awarding t he
degree. The remainder of t he pages was filled, line by line, wit h t he courses she had t aken, t he
dat es, t he hours of credit she had accumulat ed and her grades. A grade average was given at
t he end of each year and a final ent ry not ed her over-all average, 3.8. In t he bot t om right -hand
corner of t he last page was t he Ohio Universit y seal, wit h a not arys seal superimposed and
bearing t he signat ure of t he school regist rar.
I commit t ed t he st ruct ure of t he t ranscript t o memory, absorbing it as a sponge absorbs
wat er, before handing it back. Okay, youre not only sexy, youre also brainy, I said in mock
apology.
I went shopping t he next day at a graphic art s supply house, a st at ionery st ore and an
office-supply firm, picking up some legal-sized bond paper, some layout mat erial, some press-
on let t ers in several different t ype faces, some art isf s pens and pencils, an X-Act o knife, some
glue and a right -angle ruler, some gold seals and a not arys press.
I st art ed by simply cut t ing out t he Harvard Law School logo and past ing it at t he t op of a
piece of bond paper. I t hen affixed t he school seal, also filched from t he cat alogue, beneat h t he
school heading. Next I filled in my name, year of graduat ion, degree and t hen, using t he right
angle and a fine art ist s pen, I carefully lined several pages of t he legal-sized bond. Aft erward,
using block press-on let t ers, I carefully ent ered every course required for a law
degree from Harvard, my elect ives and my fict it ious grades. Since Wilcox might see t he
t ranscript , I gave myself a t hree-year over-all grade average of 3.8.
The finished, past ed-up product looked like leavings from a layout art ist s desk, but when I
ran t he pages t hrough a do-it -yourself copying machine, it came out beaut ifully. It had all t he
appearances of somet hing coughed out by a duplicat ing comput er. I finished t he six-page
count erfeit by at t aching a gold seal t o t he bot t om of t he last page and impressing over it , in a
deliberat ely blurred manner, t he not ary st amp, which I filled in by hand, using a heavy pen, and
signing wit h a flourish t he name of t he Harvard Law School regist rar, not ing below t he forgery
t hat t he regist rar was also a not ary.
Whet her or not it resembled an act ual Harvard t ranscript , I didnt know. The acid t est would
come when I present ed t he phony document t o t he st at e bar examiners office. Wilcox had
been pract icing law for fift een years, and had been an assist ant st at es at t orney for nine years.
He also had a wide acquaint ance among t he st at es lawyers. He said I was t he first Harvard
graduat e hed ever met .
I spent t hree weeks poring over t he volumes in Wilcoxs office library, finding law a much
easier, if somewhat duller, subject t han I had assumed, and t hen wit h bat ed breat h present ed
myself at t he st at e bar examiners office. A law st udent act ing as a clerk in t he office leafed
t hrough my fake t ranscript , nodded approvingly, made a copy of t he phony inst rument and
handed my original count erfeit back t o me, along wit h an applicat ion t o t ake t he bar
examinat ion. While I was filling out t he form, he t humbed t hrough a calendar and called
someone on t he t elephone.
You can t ake t he exam next Wednesday, if you t hink youre ready, he st at ed, and t hen
grinned encouragingly. It should be no hill at all for a Harvard st epper.
His colloquialism might have been t rue in regard t o an act ual Ivy League law graduat e. For
me it was a mount ain, eight hours of surmises, I hopes, maybes, confident conject ure and
semieducat ed guesses.
I flunked.
To my ast onishment , however, t he not ificat ion t hat I had failed was at t ached t o t he t est I
had t aken, which reflect ed t he answers I had correct ly given and t he quest ions I had missed.
Someone in t he SBEs office obviously liked me.
I went back t o Wilcoxs office and camped in his library, concent rat ing on t he sect ions of t he
t est I had missed. Whenever possible Wilcox himself t ut ored me. Aft er six weeks I felt I was
ready t o at t empt t he t est a second t ime.
I blew it again. But again my t est papers were ret urned t o me, showing where I had
succeeded and where I had failed. I was gaining. In fact , I was delight ed at t he number of legal
quest ions I had answered correct ly and I was det ermined t o pass t he examinat ion on my final
t ry.
I t ook t he t hird examinat ion seven weeks lat er and passed! Wit hin t wo weeks I received a
handsome cert ificat e at t est ing t o t he fact t hat I had been admit t ed t o t he st at e bar and was
licensed t o pract ice law. I cracked up. I hadnt even finished high school and had yet t o st ep on
a college campus, but I was a cert ified lawyer! However, I regarded my act ual lack of academic
qualificat ions merely a t echnicalit y, and in my four mont hs of legal cramming Id learned t he law
is full of t echnicalit ies. Technicalit ies are what screw up just ice.
Wilcox fulfilled his promise. He arranged a job int erview for me wit h t he st at e at t orney
general, who, on Wilcoxs recommendat ion, hired me as an assist ant . My salary was $12,800
annually.
I was assigned t o t he corporat e law division, one of t he AGs civil depart ment s. The divisions
at t orneys handled all t he small claims made against t he st at e, t respass-t o-t ry-t it le suit s, land-
condemnat ion cases and various ot her real est at e act ions.
That is, most of t hem did. The senior assist ant t o whom I was assigned as an aide was
Phillip Rigby, t he haught y scion of an old and est ablished local family. Rigby considered himself
a sout hern arist ocrat and I impinged on t wo of his st rongest prejudices. I was a Yankee, but
even worse, I was a Cat holic Yankee! He relegat ed me t o t he role of gophergo for coffee,
go for t his book or t hat book, go for anyt hing he could t hink of for me t o fet ch. I was t he
highest -paid errand boy in t he st at e. Rigby was a rednecked coprolit e. Mine was an opinion
shared by many of t he ot her younger assist ant s, most of whom were nat ives t hemselves but
surprisingly liberal in t heir views.
I was popular wit h t he young bachelors in t he division. I st ill had over $20,000 in my boodle
and I spent it freely on t he friends I made on t he AGs st aff, t reat ing t hem t o dinners in fine
rest aurant s, riverboat out ings and evenings in posh night clubs.
I deliberat ely gave t he impression t hat I was from a wealt hy New York family wit hout making
any such direct claim. I lived in a swank apart ment overlooking a lake, drove a leased Jaguar
and accumulat ed a wardrobe wort hy of a Brit ish duke. I wore a different suit t o work each day
of t he week, part ly because it pleased me but most ly because my ext ensive wardrobe seemed
t o irrit at e Rigby. He had t hree suit s t o my knowledge, one of which I was sure was a hand-me-
down from his Confederat e colonel grandfat her. Rigby was also penurious.
If my grooming was resent ed by Rigby, it was approved by ot hers. One day in court , during a
short delay in t he case at hand, t he judge leaned forward on his bench and addressed me:
Mr. Conrad, you may not cont ribut e much in t he way of legal expert ise t o t he proceedings
before t his court , but you cert ainly add st yle, sir. You are t he best -dressed gopher in Dixie,
Counselor, and t he court commends you. It was a genuine t ribut e and I was pleased, but
Rigby nearly had an apoplect ic seizure.
Act ually, I was sat isfied wit h my errand-boy role. I had no real desire t o act ually t ry a case.
There was t oo much danger t hat my basic lack of knowledge of t he law would be exposed.
And t he work Rigby and I did was dull and unint erest ing t he majorit y of t he t ime, a boresome
t ask t hat I was cont ent t o let him handle. Occasionally he did t hrow me a bone, allowing me t o
present some minor land issue or make t he opening argument in a given case, and I did enjoy
t hose incident s and on t he whole handled t hem wit hout det riment t o t he law profession, I
t hought . Rigby was a highly compet ent lawyer, and I learned a lot sit t ing behind him, much
more t han I had gleaned from t he law-books or t he examinat ions.
Basically, my posit ion was a haven, a lair not likely t o be discovered by t he hounds. When
youre looking for a criminal, you dont oft en t hink t o look for him on t he at t orney generals st aff
of prosecut ors, especially if youre seeking a t een-age high school dropout .
Several weeks aft er I joined t he AGs st aff, Diane was t ransferred t o Dallas. I was only
moment arily saddened at losing her. I was soon dat ing Gloria, t he daught er of a high st at e
official. Gloria was a lively, personable, vibrant girl, and if our relat ionship had a fault , it was t hat
she was not exact ly a bosom companion. But I was learning t hat a woman can also be
delight ful wit h her clot hes on.
Gloria was a member of a st aunch Met hodist family and I oft en squired her t o church, wit h
t he underst anding t hat I was not a candidat e for conversion. It was a gest ure of
int erdenominat ional respect on my part t hat was appreciat ed by her parent s, and act ually I
enjoyed it . In fact , I formed a close friendship wit h t he young past or of t he church and he
persuaded me t o become involved in t he churchs yout h programs. I part icipat ed act ively in
building several childrens playgrounds in blight ed areas of t he cit y and served on several
commit t ees governing ot her urban yout h project s. It was an odd past ime for a con man, but I
had no real sense of hypocrisy. For t he first t ime in my life I was giving unselfishly of myself, wit h
no t hought of any ret urn, and it made me feel good.
A sinner t oiling in t he vineyards of t he Church, however, no mat t er how wort hy his labors,
shouldnt put in t oo much overt ime. I accept ed one t oo many commit t ee appoint ment s and t he
grapes began t o sour.
There was a real Harvard graduat e on t his part icular panel. Not just a Harvard graduat e, but
a Harvard Law graduat e, and he was delight ed t o meet me. He was pract ically delirious wit h
joy. I have since learned somet hing about Harvard men. Theyre like badgers. They like t o
st ick t oget her in t heir own barrows. A lone badger is going t o find anot her badger. A Harvard
man in a st range area is going t o find anot her Harvard man. And t heyre going t o t alk about
Harvard.
This one pounced on me immediat ely, wit h all t he ent husiasm of St anley encount ering
Livingst one in darkest Africa. When had I graduat ed? Who had my inst ruct ors been? Who were
t he girls I knew? To what club had I belonged? What pubs had I frequent ed? Who had my
friends been?
I successfully fended him off t hat first night , wit h eit her inane answers or by ignoring him and
concent rat ing on t he commit t ee business at hand. But t hereaft er he sought me out at every
opport unit y. Hed call me t o have lunch. Hed drop by my office when he chanced t o be in t he
area. He called me t o invit e me t o part ies or out ings, t o play golf or t o t ake in some cult ural
event . And always he managed t o st eer t he conversat ion around t o Harvard. What buildings
had I had classes in? Didnt I know Professor So-and-So? Had I been acquaint ed wit h any of
t he old families of Cambridge? Harvard men around ot her Harvard men seem t o be rat her
limit ed in t heir conversat ional t opics.
I couldnt avoid him, and of course I couldnt answer many of his quest ions. His suspicions
aroused, he began t o build a res gestae case against me as a bogus Harvard man if not a
phony lawyer. It became res judicata for me when I learned he was making numerous inquiries
int o my background on several front s, seriously quest ioning my honest y and int egrit y.
Like t he proverbial Arab, I folded my t ent and silent ly st ole away. Not , however, wit hout
drawing a final paycheck. I did say good-bye t o Gloria, alt hough she wasnt aware it was a final
farewell. I merely t old her Id had a deat h in t he family and had t o ret urn t o New York for a
couple of weeks.
I t urned in my leased Jaguar and purchased a bright orange Barracuda. It wasnt t he most
inconspicuous set of wheels for a want ed fugit ive t o drive, but I liked it and I want ed it , so I
bought it . I just ified t he act ion by t elling myself t hat since t he car, if not t he driver, was cool, it
would probably prove a wise mvest ment . Largely it was an ast ut e move, for in t he past I had
simply rent ed cars and t hen abandoned t hem at airport s when I was t hrough wit h t hem, and
ORiley, unknown t o me, was making good use of t his pract ice t o compile a pat t ern of my
movement s.
I had posed as a doct or for nearly a year. I had played t he role of lawyer for nine mont hs.
While I was hardly leading a st raight life during t hose t went y mont hs, I hadnt passed any bad
checks or done anyt hing else t o at t ract t he at t ent ion of t he aut horit ies. Provided Rigby or t he
AG himself didnt press t he issue of my sudden depart ure from my post as assist ant at t orney
general, I felt just ified in assuming I was not t he object of any pressing manhunt . And I wasnt ,
save for ORileys dogged effort s, and despit e his persist ence he was as yet following a cold
t rail.
I at t empt ed t o keep it t hat way, since I was st ill in no bind for funds. My flight from my
Harvard colleagues inquisit ion t urned int o somet hing of a vacat ion. I meandered around t he
west ern st at es for several weeks, t ouring Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Wyoming, Nevada,
Idaho and Mont ana, dallying wherever t he scenery int rigued me. Since t he scenery usually
included some very lovely and suscept ible women, I st ayed perpet ually int rigued.
Alt hough t he image of myself as a criminal gradually blurred and dimmed, I ent ert ained no
t hought s of rehabilit at ion. In fact , looking t o t he fut ure, I st opped long enough in a large Rocky
Mount ain met ropolis t o equip myself wit h dual ident it ies as a fict it ious airline pilot .
Using t he same procedures t hat had enabled me t o assume t he alias of Frank Williams, a
first officer for Pan Am, I creat ed Frank Adams, an alleged co-pilot for Trans World Airways,
complet e wit h uniform, sham ID and count erfeit FAA pilot s license. I also assembled a set of
duplicit ous credent ials t hat would allow me, in my post ure as Frank Williams, t o be a pilot for
eit her Pan Am or TWA.
Short ly aft erward I was in Ut ah, a st at e not able for not only it s spect acular geography and
Mormon hist ory but also for it s proliferat ion of college campuses. Having purloined a couple of
college degrees, I t hought it only fair t hat I at least acquaint myself wit h a universit y campus
and so I visit ed several Ut ah colleges, st rolling around t he grounds and t aking in t he academic
sight s, especially t he coeds. There were so many lovely girls on one campus t hat I was
t empt ed t o enroll as a st udent .
Inst ead I became a t eacher.
While I was lolling around my mot el room one aft ernoon, reading t he local newspaper, my
at t ent ion was drawn t o an expect ed short age of summer inst ruct ors at one universit y. The
news it em quot ed t he facult y dean, one Dr. Amos Grimes, as being most concerned about
finding summer replacement s for t he schools t wo sociology professors. It appears we will
have t o look out of st at e for qualified people willing t o t each for only t hree mont hs, said Dr.
Grimes in t he st ory.
A vision of myself ensconced in a classroom wit h a dozen or so nubile beaut ies t ook hold of
my imaginat ion, and I couldnt resist . I rang up Dr. Grimes.
Dr. Grimes, Frank Adams here, I said briskly. I have a Ph.D. in sociology from Columbia
Universit y in New York. Im visit ing here, Doct or, and I see by t he newspaper t hat youre looking
for sociology inst ruct ors.
Yes, were definit ely int erest ed in finding some people, Dr. Grimes replied caut iously. Of
course, you underst and it would be only a t emporary posit ion, just for t he summer. I assume
you do have some t eaching experience?
Oh, yes, I said airily. But it s been several years. Let me explain my posit ion, Dr. Grimes. I am
a pilot for Trans World Airways, and just recent ly I was furloughed for six mont hs for medical
purposes, an inflammat ion of t he inner ear t hat bars me at t he moment from flying st at us. Ive
been looking around for somet hing t o do in t he int erim, and when I saw t he st ory it occurred t o
me t hat it might be pleasant t o get back int o a classroom again.
I was a professor of sociology at Cit y College of New York for t wo years before I joined
TWA.
Well, it cert ainly sounds like youre a likely candidat e for one of our posit ions, Dr. Adams,
said Dr. Grimes, now ent husiast ic. Why dont you come by my office t omorrow morning and
well t alk about it .
Id be delight ed t o do t hat , Dr. Grimes, I replied. Since Im a complet e st ranger in Ut ah,
could you t ell me what document s I will need t o apply for a facult y posit ion wit h your college?
Oh, just a t ranscript from Columbia will do, really, said Dr. Grimes. Of course, if you can
obt ain a couple of let t ers of recommendat ion from CCNY, it would be desirable.
No problem, I said. Ill have t o send for bot h my t ranscript and t he let t ers of
recommendat ion, of course. I came here unprepared on eit her score, since I didnt even
cont emplat e a t emporary t eaching posit ion unt il I saw t he st ory.
I underst and, Dr. Adams, replied Dr. Grimes. Ill see you in t he morning.
I wrot e Columbia Universit y t hat aft ernoon, request ing a complet e cat alogue and any
pert inent brochures on t he school. I also dashed off a let t er t o t he regist rar of CCNY, st at ing I
was a Ut ah graduat e st udent seeking a t eaching posit ion in New York, preferably in sociology. I
arranged t o rent a box at t he local post office before mailing off t he missives.
My meet ing wit h Dean Grimes was a very pleasant one. He seemed immediat ely impressed
wit h me, and we spent most of t he t ime, including a leisurely luncheon int erlude in t he facult y
club, discussing my career as a pilot . Dr. Grimes, like many men wit h sedent ary jobs, had a
romant ic view of airline pilot s and was eager t o have his excit ing perspect ive validat ed. I had
more t han enough anecdot es t o sat isfy his vicarious appet it e.
I have no doubt at all t hat we can use you t his summer, Dr. Adams, he said on my
depart ure. Im personally looking forward t o your being here on campus.
The mat erials I had request ed from Columbia and CCNY arrived wit hin t he week, and I drove
t o Salt Lake Cit y t o purchase t he supplies necessary for my current count erfeit ing vent ure. My
finished t ranscript was a beaut y, giving me a 3.7 grade average and list ing my doct oral t hesis
as a dissert at ion on The Sociological Impact of Aviat ion on t he Rural Populat ions of Nort h
America. As I had ant icipat ed, t he reply from t he regist rar of CCNY was on official college
st at ionery. I clipped off t he let t erhead and, using clear whit e plast ic t ape and high-qualit y bond
paper, creat ed a fine facsimile of t he colleges st at ionery. I t rimmed it t o regulat ion t ypewrit er-
paper size and t hen sat down and wrot e myself t wo let t ers of recommendat ion, one from t he
regist rar and one from t he head of t he sociology depart ment .
I was caut ious wit h bot h let t ers. They merely not ed t hat I had been a sociology inst ruct or at
CCNY during t he years 1961-62, t hat t he facult y rat ing commit t ee had given me very
sat isfact ory marks and t hat I had resigned volunt arily t o ent er t he field of commercial aviat ion
as a pilot . I t hen . t ook t he let t ers t o a Salt Lake Cit y job print er and had him run off a dozen
copies of each, t elling him I was applying at several universit ies for a t eaching posit ion and t hus
needed ext ra copies on fine-grade bond. Apparent ly mine was not an unusual request , for he
did t he job perfunct orily.
Dr. Grimes barely glanced at t he document s when I present ed t hem t o him. He int roduced
me t o Dr. Wilbur Vanderhoff, assist ant head of t he sociology depart ment , who also gave t he
inst rument s only a cursory examinat ion before sending t hem on t o facult y personnel for filing. I
was hired wit hin t he hour t o t each t wo six-week semest ers during t he summer at a salary of
$1,600 per semest er. I was assigned t o t each a ninet y-minut e freshman course in t he morning,
t hree days a week, and a ninet y-minut e sophomore course in t he aft ernoon, t wice weekly. Dr.
Vanderhoff provided me wit h t he t wo t ext books t o be used in t he classes, as well as st udent
at t endance ledgers. Any ot her supplies you might need, you can probably find in t he
bookst ore. They have st andard requisit ion forms on hand, said Dr. Vanderhoff. He grinned. Im
glad t o see youre young and st rong. Our summer sociology classes are usually large ones, and
youll earn your salary.
I had t hree weeks before t he first summer semest er st art ed. On t he pret ense of refreshing
myself, I audit ed several of Dr. Vanderhoffs classes, just t o get an idea of how a college course
was conduct ed. At night I st udied t he t wo t ext books, which I found bot h int erest ing and
informat ive.
Vanderhoff was right . Bot h my classes were large ones. There were sevent y-eight st udent s
in my freshman class and sixt y-t hree st udent s in my sophomore course, t he majorit y in bot h
inst ances being female st udent s.
That summer was one of t he most enjoyable of my life.
I t horoughly enjoyed my role as a t eacher. So did my st udent s, Im cert ain. My courses were
t aught by t he book, as required, and I had no difficult y t here. I just read one chapt er ahead of
t he st udent s and select ed what port ions of t he t ext I want ed t o emphasize. But almost daily I
deviat ed from t he t ext book in bot h classes, lect uring on crime, t he problems of young adult s
from broken homes and t he effect s on societ y as a whole. My depart ures from t ext book
cont ent swhich were largely drawn from my own experiences, unknown t o t he st udent s
always sparked lively discussions and debat es.
Weekends I relaxed by immersing myself in one or t he ot her of Ut ahs scenic wonderlands,
usually accompanied by an equally wondrous companion.
The summer was gone as swift ly as t he desert spring, and I knew real regret when it ended.
Dr. Vanderhoff and Dr. Grimes were delight ed wit h my work. Keep in t ouch wit h us, Frank, said
Dr. Grimes. If ever we have a permanent opening for a sociology professor, wed like a chance
t o lure you down from t he skies, said Dr. Grimes.
At least fift y of my st udent s sought me out t o t ell me how much t hey had enjoyed my
classes and t o wish me good-bye and good luck.
I was reluct ant t o leave t hat Ut ah Ut opia, but I could find no valid reason for st aying. If I
lingered, my past was cert ain t o cat ch up, and I did not want t hese peoples image of me t o be
t arnished.
I headed west t o California. There was a st orm building in t he Sierras when I crossed t he
mount ains, but it was not hing compared t o t he whirlwind of crime I was soon t o creat e myself.
CHAPTER SIX
Paperhanger in a Rolls-Royce
The former police chief of Houst on once said of me: Frank Abagnale could writ e a check on
t oilet paper, drawn on t he Confederat e St at es Treasury, sign it U.R. Hooked and cash it at
any bank in t own, using a Hong Kong drivers license for ident ificat ion.
There are several bank employees in Eureka, California, who would endorse t hat st at ement .
In fact , if it were put in t he form of a resolut ion, t here are scores of t ellers and bank officials
around t he count ry who would second t he mot ion.
I was not really t hat crude. But some of t he moves I put on bank personnel were very, very
embarrassing, not t o ment ion cost ly.
Eureka, for me, was my commencement as an expert forger. I was already an advanced
st udent of paperhanging when I arrived, of course, but I t ook my mast ers degree in check
swindling in California.
I didnt purposely pick Eureka as a milest one in my capricious career. It was meant merely as
a pit st op en rout e t o San Francisco, but t he inevit able girl appeared and I st ayed t o play house
for a few days and t o ruminat e on my fut ure. I was possessed by an urge t o flee t he count ry,
vaguely fearful t hat a posse of FBI agent s, sheriffs and det ect ives was hard on my heels.
There was no t angible reason for such t repidat ion. I hadnt bilked anyone wit h a bouncing
check in nearly t wo years, and Co-pilot Frank Williams had been in t he closet for t he same
lengt h of t ime. I should have been feeling reasonably safe, but I wasnt . I was nervous, fret ful
and doubt ful, and I saw a cop in every man who gave me more t han a casual look.
The girl and Eureka, bet ween t hem, allayed my misgivings somewhat aft er a couple of days,
t he girl wit h her warm and willing ways and Eureka wit h it s pot ent ial for elevat ing me from
pet t y larceny t o grand t heft . Eureka, in Californias nort hern redwood forest s, perched on t he
edge of t he Pacific, is a delight ful lit t le cit y. It has t he pict uresque allure of a Basque fishing
village, and in fact a large and colorful fishing fleet operat es out of Eurekas harbor.
The most fascinat ing facet of Eureka, t o me, was it s banks. It had more money houses for a
cit y it s size t han any comparable cit y Id ever visit ed. And I needed money, a lot of it , if I were
going t o be an expat riat e paperhanger.
I st ill had several st acks of wort hless personal checks, and I was sure I could scat t er a dozen
or more of t hem around t own wit h ease, net t ing $1,000 or more. But it occurred t o me t hat t he
personal-check dodge wasnt really t hat great . It was t he easiest of bum-check capers, but it
generat ed t oo much heat from t oo many point s, and t he penalt y for passing a wort hless $100
check was t he same as t hat for dropping $5,000 in phony parchment .
I felt I needed a sweet er t ype of check, one t hat would yield more honey for t he same
amount of nect ar. Like a payroll check, say. Like a Pan Am payroll check, nat urally. No one
would ever be able t o say I wasnt a loyal t hief.
I went shopping. I obt ained a book of blank count er checks from a st at ionery st ore. Such
checks, st ill in wide use at t he t ime, were ideal for my purposes, since it was left t o t he payer t o
fill in all t he pert inent det ails, including t he respondent banks name. I t hen rent ed an IBM
elect ric t ypewrit er wit h several different t ypeface spheres, including script , and some ext ra
ribbon cart ridges in various carbon densit ies. I locat ed a hobby shop t hat handled models of
Pan Ams jet s and bought several kit s in t he smaller sizes. I made a final st op at an art st ore
and purchased a quant it y of press-on magnet ic-t ape numerals and let t ers.
Thus provisioned, I ret ired t o my mot el room and set t o work. I t ook one of t he blank count er
checks and across t he t op affixed a PAN AMERICAN WORLD AIRWAYS decal from one of t he
kit s. Below t he legend I t yped in t he airlines New York address. In t he upper left -hand corner of
t he check I applied t he Pan Am logo, and in t he opposit e right -hand corner I t yped in t he words
EXPENSE CHECK, on t he premise t hat a firms expense checks would differ in appearance
from it s regular payroll checks. It was a precaut ionary act ion on my part , since some Eureka
bank t ellers might have had occasion t o handle regular Pan Am vouchers.
I made myself, Frank Williams, t he payee, of course, in t he amount of $568.70, a sum t hat
seemed reasonable t o me. In t he lower left -hand corner I t yped in CHASE MANHATTAN
BANK and t he banks address, going over t he bank legend wit h progressively blacker ribbons
unt il t he words appeared t o have been print ed on t he count erfeit check.
Below t he bank legend, across t he bot t om left -hand corner of t he check, I laid down a series
of numbers wit h magnet ic t ape. The numbers purport edly represent ed t he Federal Reserve
Dist rict of which Chase Manhat t an was a member, t he banks FRD ident ificat ion number and
Pan Ams account number. Such numbers are very import ant t o anyone cashing a check and
t enfold as import ant t o a hot -check swindler. A good paperhanger is essent ially operat ing a
numbers game and if he doesnt know t he right ones hes going t o end up wit h an ent irely
different set st enciled across t he front and back of a st at e-issued shirt .
The fabricat ing of t he check was exact ing, arduous work, requiring more t han t wo hours, and
I was not at all happy wit h t he finished product . I looked at it and decided it was not a check I
would cash were I a t eller and someone present ed t he check for payment .
But a t hrift -shop dress is usually t aken for high fashion when it s revealed under a mink coat .
So I devised a mink cover for t he rabbit -fur check. I t ook one of t he windowed envelopes,
hoaxed it up wit h a Pan Am decal and Pan Ams New York address, st uck a blank piece of
st at ionery inside and mailed it t o myself at my mot el. The missive was delivered t he following
morning, and t he local post office had unwit t ingly assist ed me in my scheme. The clerk who
had canceled t he st amp had done such a bot ched job wit h t he post mark t hat it was
impossible t o t ell where t he let t er had been mailed from. I was delight ed wit h t he mans
sloppiness.
I donned my Pan Am pilot s uniform, placed t he check in t he envelope and st uck it in t he
inside pocket of my jacket . I drove t o t he nearest bank, walked in jaunt ily and present ed myself
at a t ellers boot h at t ended by a young woman. Hi, I said, smiling. My name is Frank Williams
and Im vacat ioning here for a few days before report ing t o Los Angeles. Would you please
cash t his check for me? I t hink I have sufficient ident ificat ion.
I t ook t he envelope from my inside pocket , ext ract ed t he check and laid it on t he count er,
along wit h my phony Pan Am ID card and my illicit FAA pilot s license. I purposely dropped t he
envelope, wit h it s dist inct ive Pan Am logo and ret urn address, on t he count er.
The girl looked at my bogus ident ificat ion document s and glanced at t he check, but she
seemed more int erest ed in me. Commercial airline pilot s in uniform were obviously a rarit y in
Eureka. She pushed t he check back t o me for endorsement , and while she count ed out t he
money she asked chat t y quest ions about my work and t he places Id been, quest ions I
answered in a manner designed t o bolst er her apparent romant ic image of airline pilot s.
I was careful t o t ake t he envelope wit h me when I left . I had made cert ain t hat she not iced
t he wrapper, and it had pat ent ly enhanced her fait h in t he check. The t ransact ion also verified
a suspicion I had long ent ert ained: it s not how good a check looks but how good t he person
behind t he check looks t hat influences t ellers and cashiers.
I went back t o my mot el room and labored lat e int o t he night concoct ing several more of t he
sham checks, all in t he amount of $500 or more, and t he following day I successfully passed all
of t hem in different downt own or suburban banks. Based on my knowledge of t he check-
rout ing procedures used by banks, I calculat ed I could spend t wo more days in Eureka making
and dropping t he bum expense checks and t hen have t hree days lead t ime for t ravel before
t he first one was ret urned as a count erfeit .
But an ident it y crisis, which I experienced periodically, forced me t o revise my t imet able.
I never immersed myself so deeply in an assumed ident it y t hat I forgot I was really Frank
Abagnale, Jr. In fact , in casual encount ers wit h people, where I felt no compulsion t o play-act
and not hing was t o be gained by affect ing a guise, I invariably present ed myself as Frank
Abagnale, a foot -loose fellow from t he Bronx.
It was no different in Eureka. Away from my mot el, where I was regist ered as Frank Williams,
or t he girl, who had succumbed t o a man she believed t o be a Pan Am pilot , and out of t he
pilot s garb, I was simply Frank Abagnale, Jr. To a degree, my act ual ident it y became a refuge
from t he pressures and t ensions of posing.
In Eureka I met a fisherman off a fishing boat in a seafood rest aurant . He st opped at my
t able t o t ell me he had personally caught t he very fish I was eat ing, and t hen sat down t o
converse wit h me. He was a car buff, it developed, and I t old him about my old Ford and what I
had done t o dress up t he car. Hey, t hat s what Im t rying t o fix up now, a 1950 Ford
convert ible, he said. You dont have any pict ures of your heap, do you?
I shook my head. I do, but t heyre all back in my room at home, I said.
Gimme your address in New York and Ill send you some pict ures of my wheels when Im
finished wit h it , he said. Heck, I might even drive t o New York and look you up.
It was very unlikely t hat hed eit her writ e me or come t o New York t o see me, and just as
unlikely t hat Id be t here t o receive eit her his let t er or him, so I searched my pocket s for a piece
of paper on which t o jot down my name and New York address.
I came up wit h one of t he blank count er checks. I borrowed a pencil from a wait er and was
writ ing my name and New York address on t he back of t he check when t he fisherman was
called t o t he t elephone, a pay phone on t he wall near t he door. He t alked for a few minut es
and t hen waved at me. Hey, list en, Frank, I got t a go back t o t he boat , he shout ed. Come by
t omorrow, willya? He bolt ed out t he door before I could reply. I gave t he pencil back t o t he
wait er and asked for my t ab. You need a pencil wit h heavier lead, I said, indicat ing what I had
writ t en on t he back of t he count er check. The words were barely discernible.
I put t he check back in my pocket inst ead of t earing it up, an act ion t hat was t o prove bot h
foolish and fort unat e. Back in my room, I dropped it on t op of t he open book of count er checks,
changed clot hes and called t he girl. We spent a pleasant evening at a fine rest aurant in t he t all
redwoods somewhere out side of Eureka.
It was such a pleasant evening t hat I was st ill recalling it early t he next morning when I sat
down t o creat e t hree more phony Pan Am checks. There were only t hree banks left in and
around Eureka t hat didnt have one of my art ist ic frauds, and I didnt want t o slight any of t he
t hree. I was caught up in my new scheme. All my fears of a posse pounding down my backt rail
were forgot t en. I had also complet ely forgot t en t he young fisherman of t he past aft ernoon.
Finished wit h t he first check, I slipped it int o t he now well-used envelope. Less t han t wo
hours lat er I complet ed t he ot her t wo and was ready for my farewell foray in Eureka, one t hat
went off wit hout a hit ch. By mid-aft ernoon I was back in my mot el room, adding nearly $1,500
t o t he currency-cushioned lining of my t wo-suit er.
That night I t old t he girl I would be leaving t he following day. Ill probably be flying out of
Frisco or L.A., I dont know which, I lied. Eit her way Ill be back oft en. Ill just rent a light plane
and come up. Well look at t hose redwoods from t he t op for a change.
She believed me. That s a deal, she said, and suggest ed we go down t o t he wharves and
eat seafood. She seemed more hungry t han unhappy, which was agreeable wit h me. But
halfway t hrough t he meal I looked out t he window, saw a fishing boat coming in t o t he dock
and remembered t he young fisherman. I also remembered. I had jot t ed down my real name and
my New York addressmy fat hers address, at least on t he back of one of t he count er
checks. I had a puckered feeling in t he net her regions at t he t hought , as if someone had
goosed me. What t he hell had I done wit h t hat check? I couldnt recall offhand, and t rying t o
remember and carry on an ardent conversat ion wit h my companion made my last night wit h
t he girl somet hing less t han memorable.
Back in my room, I searched for t he blank check, but t o no avail. I had a lot of blank checks,
but t hey were all st ill in t he binder. I had t o conclude t hat Id made t hat part icular blank check
up as a sham Pan Am expense check and had passed it at one of t he t hree banks. But I
couldnt have, I t old myself. I had t o endorse each check on it s back, and surely Id have not iced
t he writ ing. But would I have? I recalled how light t he pencil had been. My writ ing had been
barely legible, even in t he bright light of aft ernoon. I could easily have overlooked t he scrawled
words when I endorsed t he check, especially in view of t he operat ing procedure Id developed
in Eureka. I had found t hat palming off one of t he fake vouchers went much smoot her and
quicker when I kept t he t ellers at t ent ion on me rat her t han t he check. And t o get a womans
at t ent ion, you have t o pay at t ent ion t o her.
I sat down on t he bed and forced a t ot al recall of t he event s t hat had result ed in t he
sit uat ion, and soon sat isfied myself as t o what had happened. I had dropped t he loose check
on t op of t he open book of count er checks. I had picked it up first t he next morning, my
encount er wit h t he fisherman unremembered, when I made up t he t hree count erfeit expense
checks. And I had placed it in t he phonied-up envelope immediat ely aft er finishing it , so
t herefore it had been t he first of t he t hree cashed. And I now recalled t he t eller whod cashed
t he check for me. Id given her lot s of at t ent ion. Too much, it seemed.
And a cert ain bank in Eureka had a count erfeit Pan Am expense check endorsed by a
count erfeit co-pilot , but also bearing on t he back t he signat ure of Frank Abagnale, Jr., and t he
address of his fat her in t he Bronx. Once t he check was exposed as a fraud, it wouldnt t ake a
Sherlock Holmes t o make t he connect ion. And t he case.
I suddenly felt hot t er t han a blast furnace. I st art ed t hinking again of leaving t he count ry,
jumping t he border int o Mexico. Or even more sout herly climes. But t his t ime I cont emplat ed
t he idea reluct ant ly. In Eureka Id devised what I considered a grand new t heft scheme, one
t hat paid off bet t er t han doct ored dice in a crap game. And heady wit h t he success of t he
syst em, Id set aside my fears of being closely pursued and had convinced myself t hat I was as
cool as an arct ic ice floe. I had int ended t o work my count erfeit check scam from coast t o coast
and border t o border. It chafed me t o have t o abandon my plans because Id st upidly blown my
cover.
But did I have t o give up t he game? Had I blown my cover at t his point ? If I hadnt not iced t he
scribbling on t he back of t he check, maybe no one else had, eit her.
There was also a good possibilit y t he check was st ill in t he bank. Id cashed it early in t he
aft ernoon, and it was possible it wouldnt be rout ed t o New York unt il t he morrow. If it hadnt
left t he bank, perhaps I could purchase it back. I could t ell t hem Pan Am had issued t he check
in error and I shouldnt have cashed it , or some such concoct ed t ale. I was sure I could come up
wit h a good st ory if t he check was st ill on hand. I fell asleep mulling feasible excuses t o offer.
I packed, st owed my gear in my car and paid my mot el bill before calling t he bank t he next
morning. I asked for t he head t eller and was connect ed wit h a woman who ident ified herself as
St ella Waring in brisk t ones.
Mrs. Waring, a Pan Am pilot cashed a check in your bank yest erday, I said. Can you t ell me
... She cut me off before I could say more.
Yes, a bogus check, she said, abrupt ly indignant and wit hout asking my ident it y or my
reason for calling. Weve not ified t he FBI. Theyre supposed t o be sending an agent for t he
check.
I wasnt challenged. I act ed on impulse, an incit ement t o prot ect my real ident it y. Yes, I said.
This is t he FBI. I want ed t o alert you t hat our agent will be t here in about fift een minut es. Do
you have t he check, or is t here someone else he should cont act ?
Just have him see me, sir, Ill have t he check, Mrs.
Waring replied. Of course, wed like a Xerox of t he check for our records. That is all right ,
isnt it ?
Of course, I assured her. I will inst ruct Mr. Davis t o provide you wit h a copy.
I was at t he bank wit hin five minut es, dressed in a blue business suit , but I discreet ly cased
t he int erior before ent ering. The t eller who had cashed t he check was nowhere in sight .
Had she been, I would not have ent ered. I didnt know whet her she was on a coffee break or
what , and I was uneasy about her appearing while I was in t he bank, but I was driven t o t ake
t he risk. I st rode int o t he lobby and t he recept ionist direct ed me t o Mrs. Warings desk at one
side of t he floor. She was a t rim, handsome woman in her t hirt ies, wit h t he dress and air of t he
complet e businesswoman. She looked up as I st opped in front of her desk.
Mrs. Waring, Im Bill Davis of t he FBI. I believe my boss called you earlier? I said.
She nodded wit h a grimace. Oh, yes, Mr. Davis, she said. I have t he check right here. She
did not ask for credent ials or seem suspicious of my st at us at all. She merely produced t he
check from a drawer and handed it t o me. I examined it wit h a professional air, an at t it ude
easily assumed since I was t he manufact urer. On t he back, barely perceivable, was my real
name and my fat hers address.
It looks pret t y junky, I observed dryly. Im surprised anyone would cash it .
Mrs. Waring smiled sour agreement . Yes, we have some girls here t hat , well, t hey see a
handsome pilot or some ot her man t hat present s a romant ic figure, and t hey t end t o lose t heir
cool. Theyre more int erest ed in t he man t han in what hes handing t hem, she said in
disapproving t ones. The girl who t ook t his check, Miss Cast er, was so upset she didnt even
come in t his morning.
I relaxed at t he informat ion and began t o enjoy my pose as a G-man. Well, we will have t o
t alk t o her, but we can do t hat lat er, I said. Have you made a copy of t his yet ?
No, but t heres a Xerox machine right t here in t he corner, it ll only t ake me a minut e, she
said.
Ill do it , I said, and walked quickly t o t he machine before she could object . I copied only t he
front of t he check, a fact or she didnt not ice when I laid it on her desk.
Let me sign t his and dat e it , I said, picking up a pen. This copy is your receipt . You
underst and we need t his original as evidence. It will be in t he cust ody of t he U.S. At t orney. I
t hink t his is all we need at t he moment , Mrs. Waring. We cert ainly appreciat e your,
cooperat ion. I pocket ed t he damning original and left .
I learned lat er t hat I exit ed t he bank barely five minut es before t he act ual FBI agent
Eurekas only G-man, in fact arrived. I also learned lat er t hat Mrs. Waring herself was more
t han a lit t le upset when she learned she had been duped, but t hen FBI agent s do have a
cert ain romant ic aura of t heir own and a woman doesnt have t o be young t o be impressed by
a glamorous figure.
Posing as an FBI agent was not t he smart est move I made at t hat point in my criminal
career. Federal agent s are generally highly efficient officers, but t hey are even more efficient
and det ermined when someone impersonat es an FBI agent . I had circumvent ed, t emporarily,
t he disclosure t hat Frank Williams, pilot poseur, was in realit y Frank Abagnale, Jr., but
unknowingly I furnished ORiley a fresh t rail t o follow and t hereaft er it was hound and hare t o
t he end.
However, I was st ill in a learning st age as a forger, albeit an advanced st udent , and I t ended
t o t ake risks an experienced check t hief would shudder t o chance. I was an independent act or,
writ ing, producing and direct ing my own script s. I did not know any professional criminals, I
didnt seek out criminal expert ise and I shunned any place t hat smacked of being a criminal
haunt .
The people who assist ed me in my dubious capers were all honest , legit imat e, respect able
folk whom I duped or conned int o lending me help. In realit y, my t ot al aut onomy was t he
biggest fact or in my success. The usual criminal sources of informat ion for t he police were
useless t o t hem in t heir search for me. The underworld grapevine simply had no int elligence on
me. While my t rue ident it y was est ablished midway in my course, t he leads garnered by police
were all aft er-t he-fact leads. I was always several days gone by t he t ime my misdeeds were
exposed as such, and officers were never able t o pick up my t rail unt il I st ruck again, usually in
some far-off cit y.
Once I embarked on count erfeit ing checks, I realized I had reached a point of no ret urn. I had
chosen paper-hanging as a profession, my means of surviving, and having chosen a nefarious
occupat ion, I set out t o perfect my working skills. In t he ensuing weeks and mont hs, I st udied
check t ransact ions and banking procedures as diligent ly as any invest or st udies t he market s
available t o him, and I did my homework in unobt rusive ways. I dat ed t ellers and picked t heir
brains while st roking t heir bodies. I went t o libraries and perused banking magazines, journals
and t rade books. I read financial publicat ions and creat ed opport unit ies t o converse wit h bank
officials. All my wrongful t echniques, in short , were polished wit h right ful wax.
Of course, as someone once observed, t here is no right way t o do somet hing wrong, but t he
most successful check swindlers have t hree fact ors in t heir favor, and any one of t he t hree, or
t he scant iest combinat ion of t he t hree, can pay off like t hree bars on a slot machine.
The first is personalit y, and I look on personal grooming as part of ones personalit y. Top con
art ist s, whet her t heyre pushing hot paper or hawking phony oil leases, are well dressed and
exude an air of confidence and aut horit y. Theyre usually, t oo, as charming, court eous and
seemingly sincere as a polit ician seeking reelect ion, alt hough t hey can, at t imes, effect t he cool
arrogance of a t ycoon.
The second is observat ion. Observat ion is a skill t hat can be developed, but I was born
blessed (or cursed) wit h t he abilit y t o pick up on det ails and it ems t he average man overlooks.
Observat ion, as I will illust rat e lat er, is t he only necessit y for successful innovat ive larceny. A
newsman who did a st ory on me not ed, A good con man reads sign like an Indian, and Frank
Abagnale would have made t he best Pawnee scout on t he front ier look like a half-blind
t enderfoot .
The t hird fact or is research, t he big difference bet ween t he hard-nosed criminal and t he
super con man. A hood planning a bank holdup might case t he t reasury for rudiment ary fact s,
but in t he end he depends on his gun. A con art ist s only weapon is his brain. A con man who
decides t o hit t he same bank wit h a fict it ious check or a sophist icat ed check swindle
researches every facet of t he caper. In my heyday as a hawker of hot paper, I knew as much
about checks as any t eller employed in any bank in t he world and more t han t he majorit y. Im
not even sure a great many bankers possessed t he knowledge I had of checks.
Here are some examples of t he t hings I knew about checks and most t ellers didnt , lit t le
t hings t hat enabled me t o fleece t hem like sheep. All legit imat e checks, for inst ance, will have
at least one perforat ed (or scalloped) edge. The edge will be at t he t op if t aken from a personal
checkbook, on t wo or t hree sides if t aken from a business check ledger. Some knowledgeable
firms even scallop all four sides of t heir checks. An ingenious check count erfeit er can duplicat e
such vouchers, of course, but only if he invest s $40,000 or more in a perforat ing press, and if he
did t hat hed hardly be ingenious. It s not somet hing one can t ot e around in a suit case.
There are wort hless checks t hat have a perforat ed edge, of course, but t he checks arent
bogus. The account is. In every inst ance where I passed a personal check, I was act ually
passing an insufficient check. Whenever I went off on a personal-check-passing t angent , I
would first open up a legit imat e checking account , using a phony name, in order t o get fift y t o
one hundred personalized checks. And, as ment ioned previously, t he first one or t wo I wrot e
were usually good. Aft er t hat I was flying kit es.
I said earlier t hat t he good check swindler is really operat ing a numbers game, and he is. All
checks, whet her personal or business, have a series of numbers in t he lower left -hand corners,
just above t he bot t oms. Take a personal check t hat has t he numbers 1130 0119 546 085
across t he bot t om left -hand corner. During my reign as a rip-off champion, not one out of a
hundred t ellers or privat e cashiers paid any at t ent ion t o such numerals, and Im convinced t hat
only a handful of t he people handling checks knew what t he series of numbers signified. Ill
decode it :
The number 11 denot es t hat t he check was print ed wit hin t he Elevent h Federal Reserve
Dist rict . There are t welve and only t welve Federal Reserve Dist rict s in t he Unit ed St at es. The
Elevent h includes Texas, where t his check was print ed. The 3 aft er t he 11 t ells one t hat t he
check was print ed in Houst on specifically, for t he Third Dist rict Office of t he FRD is locat ed in
t hat cit y. The 0 indicat es t hat immediat e credit is available on t he check. In t he middle series of
numbers, t he 0 ident ifies t he clearing house (Houst on) and t he 119 is t he banks ident ificat ion
number wit hin t he dist rict . The 546 085 is t he account number assigned t he cust omer by t he
bank.
How does t hat knowledge benefit a check count erfeit er? Wit h a bundle in his swag and a
running head st art , t hat s how. Say such a man present s a payroll check t o a t eller or cashier
for payment . It is a fine-looking check, issued by a large and reput able Houst on firm, payable at
a Houst on bank, or so it st at es on t he face of t he chit . The series of numbers in t he lower left -
hand corner, however, st art s wit h t he number 12, but t he t eller or cashier doesnt not ice t hat ,
or if she/he does, she/he, is ignorant of t he meaning of t he numbers.
A comput er isnt . When t he check lands in t he clearinghouse bank, usually t he same night , a
comput er will kick it out , because, while t he face of t he check says it s payable in Houst on, t he
numbers say it s payable in San Francisco and bank comput ers read only numbers. The check,
t herefore, is sort ed int o a bat ch of checks going t o t he Twelft h Dist rict , San Francisco in t his
inst ance, for collect ion. In San Francisco anot her comput er will reject t he check because t he
bank ident ificat ion number doesnt jibe, and at t hat point t he check lands in t he hands of a
clearing-house bank clerk. In most inst ances, t he clerk will not e only t he face of t he check, see
t hat it is payable at a Houst on bank and hand-mail it back, at t ribut ing it s arrival in San
Francisco t o comput er error. In any event , five t o seven days have passed before t he person
who cashed t he check is aware he or she has been swindled, and t he paperhanger has long
since hooked em.
I got rich off t he ignorance of bank personnel concerning t heir own numerical codes and t he
lack of knowledge of checks on t he part of people who cashed checks. In San Francisco, where
I t arried for several weeks aft er fleeing Eureka, I manufact ured several dozen of t he phony Pan
Am expense checks and passed t hem in San Francisco banks, at t he airport and in banks or
hot els in surrounding communit ies, coding t he checks so t hey were rout ed t o such dist ant
point s as Bost on, Philadelphia, Cleveland and Richmond.
No fort y-niner ever st ruck it richer in t hem t har California hills t han I did. My fabricat ed
envelope was st ill an invaluable aid in cashing t he fake vouchers, but I used it so much in t he
Bay Area t hat it st art ed t o come apart at t he seams. I needed a new one.
And why not a real one? I reasoned. San Francisco was one of Pan Ams bases, and I was a
Pan Am pilot , wasnt I? Hell no, I wasnt , but who out at Pan Am operat ions would know t hat ? I
went t o t he airport and boldly saunt ered int o t he Pan Am operat ions complex. Say, where can
I get some writ ing paper and envelopes? Im a st ranger here, I asked t he first person I
encount ered, a radio operat or.
The st ockroom, around t he corner t here, he said, point ing. Help yourself.
I did, since t he st ockroom was unat t ended. I grabbed a bat ch of envelopes, a st ack of
st at ionery wit h Pan Ams let t erhead, st uffed t hem in my briefcase and was leaving when
anot her st ack of forms caught my eye. CHECK AUTHORIZATION, said t he bold let t ers
across t he head of t he t op form. I picked up a sheaf and examined t he t op document . The
forms were request s for advance expense checks or compensat ion for expenses incurred,
aut horizing t he company cashier t o issue a check t o t he named bearer when signed by Pan
Ams San Francisco manager. I put a packet of t he forms in my briefcase, t oo. No one spoke t o
me as I left . I dont t hink anyone I encount ered paid t he slight est heed t o me.
The check aut horizat ion form was a lovely lit t le helper. Id fold it around one of my bast ard
brainchildren before slipping t he check int o an aut hent ic Pan Am envelope. I always made
cert ain t hat t he aut horizat ion form, properly if not legally filled out , and t he envelope were
prominent ly in evidence when I cashed one of my check creat ions.
One day I ret urned from foraging among Berkeleys money houses t o find t here was no room
in eit her my suit case or my duffel bag for clot hes. They were bot h full of loose bills. I was
st ealing fast er t han I could spend. I t ook $25,000, went t o a San Jose bank, rent ed a safe-
deposit box under t he name of John Calcagne, paid t hree years rent in advance and st owed
t he cash in t he box. The next day I went t o a bank in Oakland and repeat ed t he procedure,
using t he name Pet er Morelli.
Then I went back t o San Francisco and fell in love.
Her name was Rosalie and she was a st ewardess for American Airlines. She lived in an old
house wit h five roommat es, all st ews for American, t oo, and I met her when I encount ered t he
six of t hem on a bus ret urning from t he airport . They had been t o t he airport on legit imat e
business. I had been t here perpet rat ing a lit t le light larceny. We st art ed dat ing t hat same night .
Rosalie was one of t he loveliest women Id ever met , and I st ill t hink so. She had frost ed
blond hair and, as I learned quickly, somet hing of a frost ed nat ure. At t went y-four she was st ill
a virgin, and she informed me on our second dat e t hat she int ended t o st ay chast e unt il her
wedding day. I t old her I admired her at t it ude, and I did, but it st ill didnt st op me from t rying t o
undress her anyt ime we were alone.
As a companion, Rosalie was delight ful. We shared an enjoyment of music, good books, t he
ocean, skiing, t he t heat er, t ravel and a score of ot her pleasures and pursuit s. Rosalie was
devout ly religious, and like me a Cat holic, but she did not insist t hat I at t end mass wit h her.
Why dont you preach t o me about my sins? I asked her in a bant ering t one one day aft er
picking her up at church.
She laughed. I dont know t hat you have any, Frank, she replied. You sure dont have any
bad habit s t hat Im aware of. I like you like you are.
I found myself get t ing closer t o Rosalie each t ime I was wit h her. She had so many good
qualit ies. She seemed t he epit ome of t he kind of woman most young bachelors dream of
finding for a wife: she was loyal, clean-cut , int elligent , even-t empered, considerat e, lovely and
she didnt smoke or drink. She was all apple pie, American flag, mom and sis and spring rolled
up in a Girl Scout sash.
Rosalie, I love you, I said t o her one night .
She nodded. I love you, t oo, Frank, she said quiet ly.
Why dont we go visit my parent s and t ell t hem about us?
Her parent s lived in Downey, sout h of Los Angeles. It was a long drive, and en rout e we
st opped and rent ed a cabin near Pismo Beach. We had a wonderful evening, and when we
resumed our journey t he next morning, Rosalie was no longer a virgin. I really felt bad about it ,
for I t hought I should have been more considerat e of her virt ue, which I knew full well she
valued highly. I apologized repeat edly as we drove down t he coast in her car, which she had
insist ed we use.
Rosalie snuggled up t o me and smiled. St op apologizing, Frank, she said. I want ed t o do it .
Anyway, well just add t hat one t o our wedding night .
Her parent s were nice people. They welcomed me warmly, and when Rosalie t old t hem we
were going t o be married, t hey were ent husiast ic and congrat ulat ed us warmly. For t wo days
all I heard was wedding plans alt hough I hadnt act ually asked Rosalie t o marry me. But it
seemed t aken for grant ed t hat I had, and her parent s obviously approved of me.
But how could I marry her? She t hought I was Frank Williams, a Pan Am co-pilot wit h a bright
fut ure. I knew I couldnt maint ain t he pose if we were married. It would be only a mat t er of t ime
before she learned I was really Frank Abagnale, a t een-aged swindler wit h a phony front and a
dirt y past . I couldnt do t hat t o Rosalie, I t old myself.
Or could I? I had $80,000 or $90,000 in cash, ample funds t o finance t he beginning of a
marriage. Maybe Rosalie would believe me if I t old her I didnt want t o fly anymore, t hat Id
always want ed t o own and operat e a st at ionery st ore. I didnt , really, but it was t he one honest
t rade in which I was versed. I dismissed t he idea. I would st ill be Frank Williams, and Frank
Williams would st ill be a hunt ed out law.
What st art ed as a pleasant visit t urned int o an ordeal for me. I felt I really loved Rosalie, and I
felt I really want ed t o marry her, but I didnt see how under t he circumst ances.
However, Rosalie t hought she was going t o marry me. And her parent s t hought she was
going t o marry me. They happily charged ahead, set t ing t he dat e for a mont h hence, making
up a list of whom t o invit e, planning t he recept ion and doing all t he t hings parent s and a
daught er do when t he girls about t o become a bride. I t ook part in many of t he discussions,
out wardly happy and eager for t he day, but inwardly I was t ort ured wit h guilt , burning wit h
shame and t ot ally miserable. I had t old Rosalie and her parent s t hat my parent s were on a
European vacat ion, and t hey agreed t hey should wait unt il my parent s ret urned, which I said
should be wit hin t en days, before finalizing any plans.
Im sure your mot her will want t o have a hand in t his, Frank, said Rosalies mot her.
Im sure she would, I lied, alt hough I was sure my mot her would like t o get her hands on me.
I didnt know what t o do. I was st aying in Rosalies home, in t he guest room, and at night Id
lie in my bed and I could hear t he murmur of her parent s voices in t heir room across t he hall,
and I knew t hey were t alking about t heir daught ers marriage t o such a fine young man. It
made me feel rot t en.
One aft ernoon Rosalie and I went bike riding and we ended up in a park, sit t ing under a giant
shade t ree, and Rosalie, as usual, was chat t ering about our fut urewhere wed live, how many
kids wed have and so on. I looked at her as she t alked and suddenly I felt shed underst and,
t hat she loved me enough t o not only underst and but t o forgive. One of t he t rait s I loved most
in her was her compassion.
I put my hand gent ly over her mout h. Rosalie, I said, and I was surprised at my calmness
and composure. I need t o t ell you somet hing, and I want you t o t ry and underst and. If I didnt
love you so much, I wouldnt t ell you t his at all, for Ive never t old anyone what Im going t o t ell
you. And Im t elling you, Rosalie, because I love you and I do want us t o get married.
Rosalie, I am not a pilot for Pan American. Im not t went y-eight , Rosalie. Im ninet een. My
name is not Frank Williams. My name is Frank Abagnale. Im a crook, Rosalie, an impost or and a
check swindler, and Im want ed by t he police all over t he count ry.
She looked at me, shocked. Are you serious? she finally said. But I met you at t he airport .
You have a pilot s license. Ive seen it ! You have a Pan Am ID card. You were in uniform, Frank!
Why are you saying t hese t hings, Frank? What is t he mat t er wit h you?
She laughed nervously. Youre kidding me, Frank!
I shook my head. No, Rosalie, Im not . Everyt hing Ive said is t rue, I said, and I laid it all out for
her, from t he Bronx t o Downey. I t alked for an hour, wat ching her face as I t alked and seeing
her eyes mirror in t urn horror, disbelief, agony, despair and pit y before her emot ions were
hidden behind a curt ain of t ears.
She buried her hands in her hair and wept uncont rollably for what seemed an et ernit y. Then
she t ook my handkerchief, wiped her eyes and face and st ood up. Let s go back home, Frank,
she said quiet ly.
You go on, Rosalie, I said. Ill be t here short ly, but I need t o be alone for a while. And
Rosalie, dont say anyt hing t o anyone unt il I get t here. When your parent s learn about t his, I
want t hem t o hear it from me. Promise me t hat , Rosalie.
She nodded. I promise, Frank. Ill see you lat er.
She pedaled off, a lovely woman reduced t o a forlorn figure at t he moment . I got on my bike
and rode around, t hinking. Rosalie hadnt said a lot , really. She cert ainly hadnt t old me
everyt hing would be all right , t hat she forgave me and wed be married anyway. I really didnt
know what she was t hinking, or what her react ion would be when I reappeared at her home.
Should I even go back? All I had at her house were some sport s clot hes, a couple of suit s,
underwear and shaving kit . Id left my uniform in my mot el room in San Francisco, and I had my
fake ID and phony pilot s license in my pocket . I had never t old Rosalie where I lived. Id always
called her or gone t o her home. When she asked me once, I t old her I lived wit h a couple of
kooky pilot s in Alameda and t hey were so weird t hey wouldnt have a t elephone or t elevision in
t he apart ment .
That had seemed t o sat isfy her. She wasnt at all an inquisit ive person, t ending t o t ake
people as t hey present ed t hemselves. That s one reason I enjoyed her company and had
dat ed her more t han usual. I felt safe around her.
But I didnt feel safe at t he moment and I was beginning t o doubt t he wisdom of my
imprompt u confession. I forced myself t o brush aside my misgivings. What ever else she might
do, in light of what she now knew, Rosalie wouldnt bet ray me, I t old myself.
I cont emplat ed phoning her t o get a reading on what her feelings were now, but decided t o
face her and press for a decision. I approached her home from a side st reet and just before
reaching t he corner I st opped, laid t he bike down and walked along a hedge bordering a
neighbors yard unt il I had a view of her house t hrough t he foliage.
Parked in front of Rosalies home was an L.A. black-and-whit e, and a second vehicle, which,
while not -marked, was plainly a cop car, was parked in t he driveway. A uniformed policeman
was in t he squad car scanning t he st reet .
My lovely Rosalie had finked on me.
I went back t o t he bike and pedaled off in t he opposit e direct ion. When I reached t he
downt own dist rict , I parked t he bike and caught a cab t o t he Los Angeles airport . Wit hin t hirt y
minut es I was in t he air, ret urning t o San Francisco. I was plagued wit h a feeling I couldnt
ident ify t he ent ire t rip, and t he nebulous emot ion st ayed wit h me as I packed, paid my mot el bill
and ret urned t o t he airport . I bought a t icket t o Las Vegas, using t he name James Franklin, and
I left t he Barracuda in t he airport parking lot , t he keys in t he ignit ion. It was t he first of many
cars I purchased and abandoned.
I was st ill possessed by t he odd feeling during t he flight t o Las Vegas. It wasnt anger. It
wasnt sadness. It wasnt guilt . I couldnt put my finger on it unt il I st epped off t he plane in
Nevada. Then I ident ified t he emot ion.
It was relief. I was happy t o have Rosalie out of my life! The knowledge ast onished me, for
not six hours past Id been desperat ely seeking a way t o make her my wife. Ast onished or not , I
was st ill relieved.
It was my first t rip t o Las Vegas and t he cit y was everyt hing and more t han Id imagined.
There was a frant ic, elect ric aura about t he whole cit y, and t he people, visit ors and resident s
alike, seemed t o be rushing around in a st at e of frenet ic expect at ion. New York was a cit y of
leisurely calm in comparison. Gambling fever, explained a cabbie when I ment ioned t he
dynamic at mosphere.
Everybodys got it . Everybodys out t o make a killing, especially t he Johns. They fly in on jet s
or driving big wheels and leave on t heir t humbs. The only winners in t his t own are t he houses.
Everybody else is a loser. Take my adviceif youre gonna play, play t he dolls. A lot of t hem are
hungry.
I t ook a suit e at a mot el and paid t wo weeks rent in advance. The regist rat ion clerk wasnt
impressed at all by t he wad of $100 bills from which I peeled t he hot el charge. A big roll in
Vegas is like pocket change in Peoria, I soon learned.
I int ended Las Vegas t o be just an R & R st op. I followed t he cabbies advice and played t he
chicks. He was right about t he girls. Most of t hem were hungry. Act ually hungry. Famished, in
fact . Aft er a week wit h some of t he more ravenous ones, I felt like Moses feeding t he
mult it udes.
However, as t he Good Book sayet h: He t hat givet h unt o t he poor shall not lack.
I am feeding a famished gamin poolside. She has been living on casino free lunches for t hree
days while t rying t o cont act a brot her in Phoenix t o ask for bus fare home. I blew everyt hing,
she said ruefully while devouring a huge st eak wit h all t he t rimmings. All t he money I brought
wit h me, all t he money in my checking account , all I could raise on my jewelry. I even cashed in
my ret urn airline t icket . It s a good t hing my room was paid in advance or Id be sleeping on
lobby couches.
She grinned cheerfully. Serves me right . Ive never gambled before, and I didnt int end t o
gamble when I came here. But t he damned place get s t o you.
She looked at me quizzically. I hope youre just being nice, buying me dinner. I know t herere
ways a girl can get t hings in t his burg, but t hat aint my st yle, man.
I laughed. Relax. I like your st yle. Are you going back t o a job in Phoenix?
She nodded. I am if I can get hold of Bud. But I may not have a job if Im not back by
Monday.
What do you do? I asked. She looked t he secret ary t ype.
Im a check designer for a firm t hat designs and print s checks, she said. A commercial
art ist , really. It s a small firm, but we do work for a couple of big banks and a lot of business
firms.
I was ast onished. Well, Ill be darned, I vent ured. That s int erest ing. What do you do when
you design and print a check?
Oh, it depends on whet her were making up plain checks or fancy ones; you know, t he kind
wit h pict ures, landscapes and different colors. It s a simple operat ion for just plain checks. I just
lay it out on a big past e-up board however t he cust omer want s it , and t hen we phot ograph it
wit h an I-Tek camera, reducing it t o size, and t he camera produces an engraving. We just put
t he engraving on a lit t le offset press and print up t he check in blocks or sheet s. Anybody could
do it , really, wit h a lit t le t raining.
Her name was Pixie. I leaned over and kissed her on t he forehead. Pixie, howd you like t o go
home t onight , by air? I asked.
Youre kidding me? she accused, her eyes wary.
No, Im not , I assured her. Im an airline pilot for Pan Am. We dont fly out of here, but I have
deadhead privileges. I can get you a seat t o Phoenix on any airline t hat serves Vegas from
t here. All it ll cost is a lit t le whit e lie. Ill say youre my sist er. No ot her st rings at t ached, okay?
Hey, all right ! she said delight edly and gave me a big bear hug.
While she packed, I bought her a t icket , paying for it in cash. I t ook her t o t he airport and
pressed a $100 bill in her hand as she boarded t he plane. No argument s, I said. That s a
loan. Ill be around t o collect one of t hese days.
I did get t o Phoenix, but I made no effort t o cont act her. If I had, it wouldnt have been t o
collect but t o pay off, for Pixie let me int o t he mint .
The next day I sought out a st at ionery print ing supply firm. Im t hinking of st art ing a lit t le
st at ionery st ore and job print ing shop, I t old a salesman.
Ive been advised t hat an I-Tek camera and a small offset press would probably meet my
init ial needs, and t hat good used equipment might prove just as feasible from an economic
st andpoint .
The salesman nodded. That s t rue, he agreed. Trouble is, used I-Tek cameras are hard t o
come by. We dont have one. We do have a fine lit t le offset press t hat s seen very limit ed
service, and Ill make you a good deal on t he press if you t ake it along wit h a new I-Tek. Let you
have bot h for $8,000.
I was somewhat surprised by t he price, but aft er he showed me t he machines and
demonst rat ed t he operat ing procedure of bot h, I felt $8,000 was a palt ry sum t o invest in such
gems. An I-Tek camera is simply a phot oelect ric engraver. It phot ographically produces an
engraving of t he original copy t o be reproduced. The light weight , flexible plat e is t hen wrapped
around t he cylinder of an offset press, and t he plat e print s direct ly on t he blanket of t he press,
which in t urn offset s t he image ont o what ever paper st ock is used. As Pixie said, anybody
could do it wit h a lit t le t raining, and I acquired my t raining on t he spot .
The I-Tek camera and t he small press, while not overly heavy, were large and bulky, not
object s t o be cart ed around t he count ry as part of ones luggage. But I planned only a limit ed
ownership of t he machines.
I locat ed a warehouse st orage firm and rent ed a well-light ed cubicle for a mont h, paying in
advance. I t hen obt ained a cashiers check for $8,000 and bought t he I-Tek camera and t he
press and had t hem delivered t o t he st orage room. The same day I made a round of st at ionery
st ores and purchased all t he supplies I neededa drawing board, pens and pencils, rulers, a
paper cut t er, press-on let t ers and numerals, a quant it y of safet y paper in bot h blue and green
card st ock of t he t ype used for t he real expense checks and ot her it ems.
The next day I closet ed myself in my makeshift workshop and, using t he various mat erials,
creat ed a 16-by-24-inch facsimile of t he sham Pan Am expense check Id been reproducing by
hand. Finished, I posit ioned my art work under t he camera, set t he reduct ion scale for a 2>V2-
by-7V2-inch engraving and pushed t he but t on. Wit hin minut es I was fit t ing t he plat e around
t he drum of t he press and print ing sample copies of my invent ion.
I was ast onished and delight ed. The camera reduct ion had t aken away any infract ions and
discrepancies in lines and let t ering as far as t he naked eye could discern. Using t he paper
cut t er, I sliced one from t he card st ock and examined it . Save for t he four smoot h edges, I
might have been holding a genuine check!
I ran off five hundred of t he count erfeit checks before shut t ing down t he lit t le press and
abandoning bot h it and t he I-Tek camera. I went back t o my hot el room, donned my pilot s
uniform, st uck a packet of t he checks in my coat and went out t o buck t he t iger.
The t iger, for me, was a pussy cat . I ironed out Vegas like a bed sheet . That aft ernoon and
night , and t he following day, I hit nearly a hundred casinos, bars, hot els, mot els, night clubs and
ot her gambling spot s, and in Vegas almost any place you walk int o offers some kind of act ion.
Therere slot machines in t he grocery st ores. No cashier showed t he slight est hesit at ion about
cashing one of my phony checks. Would you cash t his and give me $50 in chips? Id ask, and
prompt ly Id be handed $50 in markers and t he balance in cash. For appearances sake, Id
usually st ay in a casino for t went y or t hirt y minut es, playing t he t ables, before hit t ing t he next
place, and much t o my amusement I whacked out t he casinos t hat way t oo.
I came out $300 ahead playing t he slot s. I won $1,600 playing blackjack. Wit hout t he
slight est inkling of t he game, I picked up $900 playing roulet t e, and I won $2,100 at t he dice
t ables. In all, I murdered Vegas for $39,000! I left Nevada driving a rent ed Cadillac, alt hough I
had t o put up a $1,000 deposit when I t old t he lessor Id probably be using t he car several
weeks.
I had it for nearly t hree mont hs, as a mat t er of fact . I made a leisurely, meandering t our of t he
Nort hwest and Midwest , maint aining t he pose of an airline pilot on vacat ion and alt ernat ing in
t he role of Frank Williams and Frank Adams. Since I didnt want t o leave t he hounds a t rail t hat
could be t oo easily followed, I didnt exact ly scat t er my count erfeit s like confet t i but I did st op
t o make a score now and t hen. I picked up $5,000 in Salt Lake Cit y, $2,000 in Billings, $4,000 in
Cheyenne and I bilked Kansas Cit y banks for $18,000 before ending up in Chicago, where I
simply parked t he Cadillac and walked away.
I decided t o hole up in Chicago for a while and give some serious t hought t o t he fut ure, or at
least where I want ed t o spend a great deal of t he fut ure. I was again ent ert aining t he idea of
fleeing t he count ry. I wasnt t oo concerned about my immediat e securit y, but I knew t hat if I
cont inued t o operat e in t he U.S. it would be only a mat t er of t ime before I was nabbed. The
principal problem I faced in t rying t o leave t he count ry, of course, was obt aining a passport . I
couldnt apply for one in my own name since blabbing t o Rosalie, and by now t he aut horit ies
must have linked Frank Williams and Frank Adams t o Frank Abagnale, Jr. I mulled t he sit uat ion
as I went about set t ling in Chicago, but as t hings t urned out I didnt have t oo much t ime for
mulling.
I leased a nice apart ment on Lakeshore Drive, using t he name Frank Williams. I did so
primarily because I was out of personalized checks and I always liked t o have a supply in my
possession. A lot of mot els, I had learned, would not cash a company check but would accept a
personal check in t he amount of t he bill or in cash amount s up t o $100. I had forsaken personal
checks as a means of swindling, but I st ill used t hem as a means of paying room rent when
necessary. I didnt like t o lay out hard cash when I could slide one of my soft checks.
Accordingly, I dropped int o a bank a week aft er alight ing in Chicago and opened a checking
account for $500. I ident ified myself as a Pan Am pilot , and gave as my address for t he checks
t hat of a mail service firm in New York t o which Id recent ly subscribed as anot her means of
covering my t rail. But I want my checks and my mont hly st at ement s mailed t o t his address, I
inst ruct ed t he bank officer who handled t he t ransact ion, giving him my Lake-shore Drive
address.
You see, t he reason I want an account here is because Im in and out of Chicago all t he t ime
on company business and it s much more convenient t o have an account in a local bank.
The bank officer agreed. Youll receive your regular checks in about a week, Mr. Williams. In
t he meant ime, herere some t emporary checks you can use, he said.
Observat ion. A great asset for a con man, Ive said. I had observed a very lovely t eller when I
ent ered t he bank. Her image remained in my mind aft er I left t he bank, and when she persist ed
in my t hought s over t he next few days I det ermined t o meet her. I ret urned t o t he bank several
days lat er on t he pret ext of making a deposit and was filling out a deposit slip I had t aken from
a count er in t he middle of t he lobby when an even higher power of observat ion t ook command
of my mind.
In t he lower left -hand corner of t he deposit slip was a rect angular box for t he deposit ors
account number. I never filled in t he box, for I knew it wasnt required. When a t eller put a
deposit slip in t he small machine in his or her cage, in order t o furnish you wit h a st amped
receipt , t he machine was programed t o read t he account number first . If t he number was t here,
t he amount of t he deposit was aut omat ically credit ed t o t he account holder. But if t he number
wasnt t here, t he account could st ill be credit ed using t he name and address, so t he number
wasnt necessary.
There was a fellow beside me filling out a deposit slip. I not iced he neglect ed t o give his
account number. I dawdled in t he bank for nearly an hour and wat ched t hose who came in t o
deposit cash, checks or credit -card vouchers. Not one in t went y, if t hat many, used t he space
provided for his or her account number.
I forgot about t he girl. I surrept it iously pocket ed a sheaf of t he deposit slips, ret urned t o my
apart ment and, using press-on numerals mat ching t he t ype face on t he bank forms, filled in t he
blank on each slip wit h my own account number.
The following morning, I ret urned t o t he bank and just as st ealt hily put t he sheaf of deposit
slips back in a slot at op a st ack of ot hers. I didnt know if my ploy would succeed or not , but it
was wort h a risk. Four days lat er I ret urned t o t he bank and made a $250 deposit . By t he way,
what s my balance, please? I asked t he t eller. I forgot t o ent er some checks I wrot e t his
week.
The t eller obligingly called bookkeeping. Your balance, including t his deposit , is $42,876.45,
Mr. Williams, she said.
Just before t he bank closed, I ret urned and drew out $40,000 in a cashiers check, explaining
I was buying a home. I didnt buy a home, of course, but I sure did feat her my nest . The next
morning I cashed t he check at anot her bank and t hat aft ernoon flew t o Honolulu, where a
pret t y Hawaiian girl greet ed me wit h a kiss and put a lei around my neck.
I was a cad when it came t o reciprocat ing. During t he next t wo weeks I fashioned a $38,000
lei of fraudulent checks, spent t hree days hanging it around t he necks of banks and hot els on
t he islands of Oahu, Hawaii, Maui and Kauai, and t hen jet t ed t o New York.
It was t he first t ime Id been back in New York since hit t ing t he paperhangers t rail, and I was
t empt ed t o call Mom and Dad and maybe even see t hem. I decided against any such act ion,
however, as much from shame as anyt hing else. I might ret urn home a financial success
beyond eit her Moms or Dads comprehension, but mine was not t he kind of success eit her of
t hem would appreciat e or condone.
I st ayed in New York just long enough t o devise a new scam. I opened a checking account in
one of t he Chase Manhat t an branches, and when I received my personalized checks, in t he
name of Frank Adams, wit h t he address of an East Side flat Id rent ed, I flew t o Philadelphia
and scout ed t he cit ys banks. I select ed one wit h an all-glass front , enabling prospect ive
deposit ors t o see all t he act ion inside and providing t he bank officers, whose desks lined t he
glass wall, wit h a* good view of t he cash inflow.
I want ed t hem t o have a very pleasant view of me, so I arrived t he next morning in a Rolls-
Royce driven by a chauffeur I had hired for t he occasion.
As t he chauffeur opened t he door for me, I saw one of t he bank officers had indeed not iced
my arrival. When I ent ered t he bank, I walked direct ly t o him. I had dressed befit t ing a man wit h
a chauffeured Rolls-Roycecust om-t ailored t hree-piece suit in pearl gray, a $100 homburg
and alligat or Ballysand t he look in his eyes t old me t he young banker recognized my
grooming as anot her indicat ion of wealt h and power.
Good morning, I said briskly, t aking a seat in front of his desk. My name is Frank Adams,
Adams Const ruct ion Company of New York. Well be doing t hree const ruct ion project s here
during t he year and I want t o t ransfer some funds here from my New York bank. I want t o open
a checking account wit h you people.
Yes, sir! he replied ent husiast ically, reaching for some forms. Will you be t ransferring all
your funds here, Mr. Adams?
As far as my personal funds are concerned, yes, I said. Im not sure about t he company
funds as yet , and wont be unt il I look closer at t he project s, but in any event well want t o place
a subst ant ial amount here.
Well, for your personal account , Mr. Adams, all you have t o do is writ e me a check for t he
remaining balance in your New York bank and t hat will close t hat account out .
Is t hat all? I said, feigning surprise. I didnt realize it was t hat simple. I t ook my checkbook
from my inside pocket and, holding it so he couldnt see it , ran my finger down an imaginary
column of figures, murmuring. Then I looked up at him. May I use your adding machine, please?
I wrot e some checks yest erday and didnt balance my checkbook and Im not much on adding
figures in my head.
Cert ainly, he said and t urned t he machine for my use. I ran a few figures and t hen nodded.
Well, I make my balance $17,876.28, and Im sure t hat s correct , I said. But let s just open
an account for $17,000. Ill be going back t o New York on occasion and Id like t o maint ain a
small balance t here.
I wrot e him a check for $17,000 and gave him t he necessary informat ion for set t ing up an
account . I gave my address as t he hot el where I had regist ered. Ill be st aying t here unt il I can
find a suit able apart ment or house t o lease, I said.
The young banker nodded. You realize, of course, Mr. Adams, you cant writ e any checks on
your account unt il your check has cleared in New York, he said. That shouldnt t ake over four
or five days, however, and in t he meant ime if you run short of funds, come t o me and Ill t ake
care of it . Here are some t emporary checks for such an event .
I shook my head. That s kind of you, but I ant icipat ed t he delay, I said. I have ample funds
for my needs.
I shook hands wit h him and left . That night I flew t o Miami and t he following aft ernoon I
appeared in front of anot her glass-front ed bank, again in a Rolls-Royce but at t he wheel
myself, and casually but again expensively at t ired. I glanced at my wat ch as I ent ered t he
lobby. The Philadelphia bank would be open for anot her t hirt y minut es. A st rikingly handsome
and chicly dressed woman who had not ed my arrival greet ed me as I st epped int o t he lobby.
May I help you, sir? she asked, smiling. On closer inspect ion she was much older t han I had
first t hought , but she was st ill an alluring woman.
I hope so, I said, ret urning t he smile. But I t hink Id bet t er speak t o t he bank manager.
Her eyes lit impishly. I am t he bank manager, she said, laughing. Now, what s your
problem? You cert ainly dont appear t o need a loan.
I t hrew up my hands in mock defeat . No, no, not hing like t hat , I said. My names Frank
Adams and Im from Philadelphia and Ive been looking around Miami for years for a suit able
vacat ion home. Well, t oday I found a fant ast ic deal, a float ing house near Biscayne Bay, but t he
man want s cash and he want s a $15,000 deposit by five oclock t oday. He wont t ake a
personal check and I dont have a bank account here.
Im wondering, could I writ e you a check on my bank in Philadelphia and you issue me a
cashiers check, payable t o cash, for $15,000? I realize youll have t o call my bank t o verify t hat
I have t he money, but Ill pay for t he call. I really want t his house. It would mean I could spend
half my t ime down here. I paused, a pleading look on my face.
She pursed her lips pret t ily. What s t he name of your bank in Philadelphia, and your account
number? she asked. I gave her t he name of t he bank, t he t elephone number and my account
number. She walked t o a desk and, picking up t he t elephone, called Philadelphia.
Bookkeeping, please, she said when she was connect ed. Then: Yes, I have a check here,
drawn on account number 505-602, Mr. Frank Adams, in t he amount of $15,000.1 would like t o
verify t he check, please.
I held my breat h, suddenly aware of t he burly bank guard st anding in one corner of t he lobby.
It had been my experience t hat clerks in bank bookkeeping depart ment s, when asked t o verify
a check, merely looked at t he balance.
They rarely went behind t he request t o check on t he st at us of t he account . I hoped t hat
would be t he case here. If not , well, I could only hope t he bank guard was a lousy shot .
I heard her say, All right , t hank you, and t hen she replaced t he receiver and looked at me
wit h a speculat ive expression. Tell you what , Frank Adams, she said wit h anot her of her
brilliant smiles. Ill t ake your check if youll come t o a part y Im having t onight . Im short of
handsome and charming men. How about it ?
You got a deal, I said, grinning, and wrot e her a check on t he Philadelphia bank for $15,000,
receiving in ret urn a $15,000 cashiers check, payable t o cash.
I went t o t he part y. It was a fant ast ic bash. But t hen she was a fant ast ic ladyin more ways
t han several.
I cashed t he check t he next morning, ret urned t he Rolls-Royce and caught a plane for San
Diego. I reflect ed on t he woman and her part y several t imes during t he flight and nearly
laughed out loud when I was st ruck wit h one t hought .
I wondered what her react ion would be when she learned shed t reat ed me t o t wo part ies on
t he same day, and t he one had been a real cash ball.
CHAPTER SEVEN
How to Tour Europe on a Felony a Day
I developed a scam for every occasion and somet imes I waived t he occasion. I modified t he
American banking syst em t o suit myself and siphoned money out of bank vault s like a coon
drains an egg. When I jumped t he border int o Mexico in lat e 1967,1 had illicit cash asset s of
nearly $500,000 and several dozen bank officials had crimson derrieres.
It was pract ically all done wit h numbers, a st at ist ical shell game wit h t he pea always in my
pocket .
Look at one of your own personal checks. Theres a check number in t he upper right -hand
corner, right ? Thaf s probably t he only one you not ice, and you not ice it only if you keep an
accurat e check regist er. Most people dont even know t heir own account number, and while a
great number of bank employees may be able t o decipher t he bank code numbers across t he
bot t om of a check, very few scan a check t hat closely.
In t he 1960s bank securit y was very lax, at least as far as I was concerned. It was my
experience, when present ing a personal check, drawn on a Miami bank, say, t o anot her Miami
bank, about t he only securit y precaut ion t aken by t he t eller was a glance at t he number in t he
upper right -hand corner. The higher t hat number, t he more readily accept able t he check. It was
as if t he t eller was t elling herself or himself, Ah-hah, check number 2876boy, t his guy has
been wit h his bank a long t ime. This checks got t a be okay.
So Im in an East Coast cit y, Bost on, for example. I open an account in t he Bean St at e Bank
for $200, using t he name Jason Parker and a boardinghouse address. Wit hin a few days, I
receive 200 personalized checks, numbered 1-200 consecut ively in t he upper right -hand
corner, my name and address in t he left -hand corner and, of course, t hat st ring of odd lit t le
numbers across t he left -hand bot t om edge. The series of numbers commenced wit h t he
numbers 01, since Bost on is locat ed wit hin t he First Federal Reserve Dist rict .
The most successful cat t le rust lers in t he Old West were expert s at brand blot t ing and
brand changing. I was an expert in check number blot t ing and changing, using press-on
numbers and press-on magnet ic-t ape numbers.
When I finished wit h check number 1, it was check number 3100, and t he series of numbers
above t he left -hand bot t om edge st art ed wit h t he number 12. Ot herwise, t he check looks t he
same.
Now I walk int o t he Old Set t lers Farm and Home Savings Associat ion, which is just a mile
from t he Bean St at e Bank. I want t o open a savings account , I t ell t he clerk who greet s me.
My wife t ells me were keeping t oo much money in a checking account .
All right , sir, how much do you wish t o deposit ? he or she asks. Let s say it s a he. Bank
dummies are divided equally among t he sexes.
Oh, $6,500,1 guess, I reply, writ ing out a check t o t he OSFHSA. The t eller t akes t he check
and glances at t he number in t he upper right -hand corner. He also not ices it s drawn on t he
Bean St at e Bank. He smiles. All right , Mr. Parker. Now, t here is a t hree-day wait ing period
before you can make any wit hdrawals. We have t o allow t ime for your check t o clear, and since
it s an in-t own check t he t hree-day wait ing period applies.
I underst and, I reply. I do, t oo. Ive already ascert ained t hat s t he wait ing period enforced by
savings and loan inst it ut ions for in-t own checks.
I wait six days and on t he morning of t he sixt h day I ret urn t o Old Set t lers. But I deliberat ely
seek out a different t eller. I hand him my passbook. I need t o wit hdraw $5,500, I say. If t he
t eller had quest ioned t he amount of t he wit hdrawal, I would have said t hat I was buying a
house or given some ot her plausible reason. But few savings and loan bank t ellers pry int o a
cust omers personal affairs.
This one didnt . He checked t he account file. The account was six days old. The in-t own
check had obviously cleared. He ret urned my passbook wit h a cashiers check for $5,500.
I cashed it at t he Bean St at e Bank and left t own . . . before my check for $6,500 ret urned
from Los Angeles, where t he clearing-house bank comput er had rout ed it .
I invest ed in anot her I-Tek camera and print ing press and did t he same t hing wit h my phony
Pan Am expense checks. I made up different bat ches for passing in different areas of t he
count ry, alt hough all t he checks were purport edly payable by Chase Manhat t an Bank, New
York.
New York is in t he Second Federal Reserve Dist rict . Bona fide checks on banks in New York
all have a series of numerals beginning wit h t he number 02. But all t he phony checks I passed
on t he East Coast , or in nort heast ern or sout heast ern st at es, were rout ed first t o San
Francisco or Los Angeles. All t he phony checks I passed in t he Sout hwest , Nort hwest or along
t he West Coast were first rout ed t o Philadelphia, Bost on or some ot her point across t he
cont inent .
My numbers game was t he perfect syst em for float s and st alls. I always had a weeks
running t ime before t he hounds picked up t he spoor. I learned lat er t hat I was t he first check
swindler t o use t he rout ing numbers racket . It drove bankers up t he wall. They didnt know
what t he hell was going on. They do now, and t hey owe me.
I worked my schemes overt ime, all over t he nat ion, unt il I decided I was just t oo hot t o cool
down. I had t o leave t he count ry. And I decided I could worry about a passport in Mexico as
fret fully as I could in Richmond or Seat t le, since all I needed t o visit Mexico was a visa. I
obt ained one from t he Mexican Consulat e in San Ant onio, using t he name Frank Williams and
present ing myself as a Pan Am pilot , and deadheaded t o Mexico Cit y on an Aero-Mexico jet .
I did not t ake t he ent ire proceeds of my crime spree wit h me. Like a dog wit h access t o a
but cher-shop bone box and fort y acres of soft ground, I buried my loot all over t he Unit ed
St at es, st ashing st acks of cash in bank safe-deposit boxes from coast t o coast and from t he
Rio Grande t o t he Canadian border.
I did t ake some $50,000 wit h me int o Mexico, concealed in t hin sheafs in t he lining of my
suit cases and t he linings of my jacket s. A good cust oms officer could have t urned up t he cash
speedily, but I didnt have t o go t hrough cust oms. I was wearing my Pan Am uniform and was
waived along wit h t he AeroMexico crew.
I st ayed in Mexico Cit y a week. Then I met a Pan Am st ewardess, enjoying a five-day holiday
in Mexico, and accept ed her invit at ion t o go t o Acapulco for a weekend. We were airborne
when she suddenly groaned and said a naught y word. What s t he mat t er? I asked, surprised
t o hear such language from such lovely lips.
I meant t o cash my paycheck at t he airport , she said. Ive got exact ly t hree pesos in my
purse. Oh, well, I guess t he hot el will cash it .
Ill cash it , if it s not t oo much, I said. Im sending my own check off t onight for deposit , and I
can just run it t hrough my bank. How much is it ?
I really didnt care how much cash was involved. A real Pan Am check! I want ed it . I got it for
$288.15, and st owed it carefully away. I never did cash it , alt hough it net t ed me a fort une.
I liked Acapulco. It t eemed wit h beaut iful people, most of t hem rich, famous or on t he make
for somet hing or ot her, somet imes all t hree. We st ayed at a hot el frequent ed by airline crews,
but I never felt in jeopardy. Acapulco is not a place one goes t o t alk shop.
I st ayed on aft er t he st ewardess ret urned t o her base in Miami. And t he hot el manager
became friendly wit h me, so friendly t hat I decided t o sound him out on my dilemma.
He joined me at dinner one night and since he seemed in an especially affable mood, I
decided t o make a t ry t hen and t here. Pet e, Im in a helluva jam, I vent ured.
The hell you are! he exclaimed in concerned t ones.
Yeah, I replied. My supervisor in New York just called me. He want s me t o go t o London on
t he noon plane from Mexico Cit y t omorrow and pick up a flight t hat s being held t here because
t he pilot is sick.
Pet e grinned. That s a jam? I should have your t roubles.
I shook my head. The t hing is, Pet e, I dont have my passport wit h me. I left it in New York
and Im supposed t o have it wit h me all t he t ime. I cant make it back t o New York in t ime t o get
my passport and get t o London on schedule. And if t he super learns Im here wit hout a
passport , hell fire me. What t he hell am I gonna do, Pet e?
He whist led. Yeah, you are in a jam, arent you? His feat ures t ook on a musing look, and
t hen he nodded. I dont know t hat t his will work, but have you ever heard of a woman named
Kit t y Corbet t ?
I hadnt and said so. Well, shes a writ er on Mexican affairs, an old dame. Shes been down
here t went y or t hirt y years and is real respect ed. They say she has clout from t he President ial
Palace in Mexico Cit y t o Washingt on, D.C., t he Whit e House even, I underst and. I believe it ,
t oo. He grinned. The t hing is, t hat s her at t he t able by t he window. Now, I know she plays
mamma t o every down-and-out American who put s a con on her, and she loves t o do favors
for anybody who seeks her out want ing somet hing. Makes her feel like t he queen mot her, I
guess. Anyway, let s go over and buy her a drink, put some sweet lines on her and cry a lit t le.
Maybe she can come up wit h an answer.
Kit t y Corbet t was a gracious old woman. And sharp. Aft er a few minut es, she smiled at Pet e.
Okay, innkeeper, what s up? You never sit down wit h me unless you want somet hing. What is
it t his t ime?
Pet e t hrew up his hands and laughed. I dont want a t hing, honest ! But Frank here has a
problem. Tell her, Frank.
I t old her virt ually t he same st ory Id put on Pet e, except I went a lit t le heavier on t he
melodrama. She looked at me when I finished. You need a passport real bad, Id say, she
comment ed.
Trouble is, youve got one. If s just in t he wrong place. You cant have t wo passport s, you
know. Thaf s illegal.
I know, I said, grimacing. That worries me, t oo. But I cant lose t his job. It might be years
before anot her airline picked me up, if at all. I was on Pan Ams wait ing list for t hree years. I
paused, t hen exclaimed, Flying jet liners is all I ever want ed t o do!
Kit t y Corbet t nodded sympat het ically, lost in t hought .
Then she pursed her mout h. Pet e, get me a t elephone over here.
Pet e signaled and a wait er brought a t elephone t o t he t able and plugged it int o a nearby
wall jack. Kit t y Corbet t picked it up, jiggled t he hook and t hen began t alking t o t he operat or in
Spanish. It required several minut es, but she was put t hrough t o whomever she was calling.
Sonja? Kit t y Corbet t here, she said. List en, Ive got a favor t o ask ... She went on and
det ailed my predicament and t hen list ened as t he part y on t he ot her end replied.
I know all t hat , Sonja, she said. And Ive got it figured out . Just issue him a t emporary
passport , just as you would if his had been lost or st olen. Hell, when he get s back t o New York
he can t ear up t he t emporary passport , or t ear up t he old one and get a new one.
She list ened again for a minut e, t hen held her hand over t he receiver and looked at me. You
dont happen t o have your birt h cert ificat e wit h you, do you?
Yes, I do, I said. I carry it in my wallet . It s a lit t le worn, but st ill legible.
Kit t y Corbet t nodded and t urned again t o t he phone. Yes, Sonja, he has a birt h cert ificat e. . .
. You t hink you can handle it ? Great ! Youre a love and I owe you. See you next week.
She hung up and smiled. Well, Frank, if you can get t o t he American Consulat e in Mexico
Cit y by t en oclock t omorrow, Sonja Gundersen, t he assist ant consul, will issue you a t emporary
passport . Youve lost yours, underst and? And if you t ell anyone about t his, Ill kill you.
I kissed her and ordered a bot t le of t he best champagne. I even had a glass myself. Then I
called t he airport and found t here was a flight leaving in an hour. I made a reservat ion and
t urned t o Pet e. List en, Im going t o leave a lot of my st uff here. I dont have t ime t o pack. Have
someone pack what I leave and st ore it in your office, and Ill pick it up in a couple of weeks,
maybe sooner. Im going t o t ry and come back t hrough here.
I st uffed one suit case wit h my uniform and one suit , and my money. Pet e had a cab wait ing
when I went down t o t he lobby. I really liked t he guy, and I wished t here were some way t o
t hank him.
I t hought of a way. I laid one of my phony Pan Am checks on him. On t he hot el he managed,
anyway.
I cashed anot her one at t he airport before boarding t he flight t o Mexico Cit y. In Mexico Cit y, I
st owed my bag in a locker aft er changing int o my Pan Am pilot s garb and walked int o Miss
Gundersens office at 9:45 A.M.
Sonja Gundersen was a crisp, st arched blonde and she didnt wast e any t ime. Your birt h
cert ificat e, please.
I t ook it from my wallet and handed it t o her. She scanned it and looked at me. I t hought
Kit t y said your name was Frank Williams. This says your name is Frank W. Abagnale, Jr.
I smiled. It is. Frank William Abagnale, Jr. You know Kit t y. She had a lit t le t oo much
champagne last night . She kept int roducing me t o all her friends as Frank Williams, t oo. But I
t hought she gave you my full name.
She may have, agreed Miss Gundersen. I had t rouble hearing a lot of what she said. These
damned Mexican t elephones. Anyway youre obviously a Pan Am pilot , and part of your name is
Frank William, so you must be t he one.
As inst ruct ed, I had st opped and obt ained t wo passport -sized phot ographs. I gave t hose t o
Miss Gundersen, and walked out of t he consulat e building fift een minut es lat er wit h a
t emporary passport in my pocket . I went back t o t he airport and changed int o a suit and
bought a t icket for London at t he Brit ish Overseas Airways count er, paying cash.
I was -t old t he flight was delayed. It wouldnt depart unt il seven t hat evening.
I changed back int o my pilot s uniform and spent six hours papering Mexico Cit y wit h my
decorat ive duds. I was $6,500 richer when I flew off t o London, and t he Mexican federates
joined t he posse on my t ail.
In London I checked int o t he Royal Gardens Hot el in Kensingt on, using t he name F. W.
Adams and represent ing myself as a TWA pilot on furlough. I used my alt ernat e alias on t he
premise t hat London police would soon be receiving queries on Frank W. Abagnale, Jr., also
known as Frank Williams, erst while Pan Am pilot .
I st ayed only a few days in London. I was beginning t o feel pressure on me, t he same
uneasiness t hat had plagued me in t he St at es. I realized in London t hat leaving t he U.S. hadnt
solved my problem, t hat Mexican police and Scot land Yard officers were in t he same business
as cops in New York or Los Angelest hat of cat ching crooks. And I was a crook.
Given t hat knowledge, and t he small fort une in cash I had st ashed away in various places, it
would have been prudent of me t o live as quiet ly and discreet ly as possible under an assumed
name in some out -of-t he-way foreign niche. I recognized t he merit s of such a course, but
prudence was a qualit y I didnt seem t o possess.
I was act ually incapable of sound judgment , I realize now, driven by compulsions over which I
had no cont rol. I was now living by rat ionalizat ions: I was t he hunt ed, t he police were t he
hunt ers, ergo, t he police were t he bad guys. I had t o st eal t o survive, t o finance my cont inual
flight from t he bad guys, consequent ly I was just ified in my illegal means of support . So, aft er
less t han a week in England, I papered Piccadilly wit h some of my piccadillies and flew off t o
Paris, smug in t he irrat ional assumpt ion t hat Id resort ed t o fraud again in self-defense.
A psychiat rist would have viewed my act ions different ly. He would have said I want ed t o be
caught . For now t he Brit ish police began t o put t oget her a dossier on me.
Perhaps I was seeking t o be caught . Perhaps I was subconsciously seeking help and my
subliminal mind t old me t he aut horit ies would offer t hat help, but I had no such conscious
t hought s at t he t ime.
I was fully aware t hat I was on a mad carrousel ride, a merry-go-round whirling ungoverned
from which I seemed unable t o dismount , but I sure as hell didnt want cops t o st op t he
whirligig.
I hadnt been in Paris t hree hours when I met Monique Lavalier and ent ered int o a
relat ionship t hat was not only t o broaden my venal vist as but , ult imat ely, was also t o dest roy
my honey hive. Looking back, I owe Monique a debt of t hanks. So does Pan Am, alt hough some
of t he firms officials might argue t he point .
Monique was a st ewardess for Air France. I met her in t he Windsor Hot el bar, where she and
several dozen ot her Air France flight -crew people were giving a part y for a ret iring capt ain pilot .
If I met t he honoree, I dont remember him, for I was mesmerized by Monique. She was as
heady and sparkling as t he fine champagne being served. I was invit ed t o t he part y by an Air
France first officer who saw me, dressed in my Pan Am at t ire, checking in at t he desk. He
prompt ly accost ed me, hust led me int o t he bar, and my real prot est s evaporat ed when he
int roduced me t o Monique.
She had all of Rosalies charms and qualit ies and none of Rosalies inhibit ions. Apparent ly I
affect ed Monique t he same way she affect ed me, for we became inseparable during t he t ime I
was in Paris and on subsequent visit s. Monique, if she had any t hought s of marrying me, never
ment ioned it , but she did, t hree days aft er we met , t ake me home t o present me t o her family.
The Lavaliers were delight ful people, and I was part icularly int rigued wit h Papa Lavalier.
He was a job print er, operat or of a small print ing shop on t he out skirt s of Paris. I was
immediat ely seized wit h an idea for improving upon my check-swindling scam involving phony
Pan Am vouchers.
You know, I have some good connect ions in t he Pan Am business office, I said casually
during lunch. Maybe I can get Pan Am t o give you some print ing business.
Papa Lavalier beamed. Yes, yes! he exclaimed. Anyt hing you want done, we will t ry and
do, and we would be most grat eful, monsieur. Monique act ed as an int erpret er, for none of her
family had t he slight est command of English. That aft ernoon her fat her t ook me on a t our of
his plant , which he operat ed wit h t wo of Moniques brot hers. He employed one ot her young
man, who, like Monique, spoke fract ured English, but Papa Lavalier said he and his sons would
personally perform any print ing jobs I might secure for t heir lit t le firm. What ever you want
print ed in English, my fat her and my brot hers can do it , Monique said proudly. They are t he
best print ers in France.
I st ill had t he act ual Pan Am payroll check Id cashed for t he st ewardess in Mexico. St udying
it , I was st ruck by t he difference bet ween it and my imaginat ive version of a Pan Am check. My
imit at ions were impressive, cert ainly, else I wouldnt have been able t o pass so many of t hem,
but one placed next t o t he real t hing fairly shrieked count erfeit ! I had been lucky t o get by
wit h passing t hem. Obviously t he t ellers whod accept ed t hem had never handled a real Pan
Am check.
It occurred t o me, however, t hat Pan Am checks might be very familiar t o European bank
t ellers, since t he carrier did t he bulk of it s business out side t he cont inent al Unit ed St at es. The
t hought had crossed my mind in London, even, when t he t eller in t he one bank Id bilked had
seemed overly st udious of my art work.
It s an expense check, Id said, point ing t o t he bold black let t ers so st at ing.
Oh, yes, of course, hed replied, and had cashed t he check, but wit h a t race of reluct ance.
Now I had anot her t hought . Maybe Pan Am had a different -t ype check, maybe a different -
colored check, perhaps, for different cont inent s. I t hought it best t o check on t he t heory before
proceeding wit h my plan. The next morning I called Pan Ams Paris office and asked t o speak
t o someone in t he business office. I was connect ed wit h a man who sounded very young and
very inexperienced, and soon proved he was t he lat t er. I was becoming convinced t hat Lady
Luck was my personal swit chboard operat or.
Say, list en, t his is Jack Rogers over at Daigle Freight Forwarding, I said. I got a check here,
and I t hink your company must have sent it t o us by mist ake.
Uh, well, Mr. Rogers, why do you say t hat ? he inquired.
Because I got a check here for $1,900, sent from your New York office, and I dont have an
invoice t o mat ch t he payment not at ion, I replied. I cant find any record of having handled
anyt hing for you people. You got any idea what t his checks for?
Well, not right offhand, Mr. Rogers. Are you sure t he checks from us?
Well, it seems t o me it is, I said. It s a regular green check wit h Pan American in big let t ers
across t he t op and it s made out t o us for $1,900.
Mr. Rogers, t hat doesnt sound like one of our checks, t he fellow said. Our checks are blue,
and t hey have Pan AmPan AmPan Am in faded-out wording all over t he face, along wit h a
global map of t he world. Does yours have t hat on it ?
I was holding t he st ewardesss check in my hand. He had described it perfect ly, but I didnt
t ell him t hat . You got t a Pan Am check t here? I demanded, in t he t one of a man who want ed
t o remove all doubt s.
Well, yes, I do, but . . .
I cut him off. Whos it signed by? What s t he compt rollers name? I asked.
He t old me. It was t he same name appearing on t he check in my hand. What s t he st ring of
lit t le numbers across t he bot t om read? I pressed.
Why, 02 ... and he rat t led t hem off t o me. They mat ched t he numbers on t he st ews check.
Nah, t hat s not t he guy who signed t his check and t he numbers dont mat ch, I lied. But you
people do bank wit h Chase Manhat t an, dont you?
Yes, we do, but so do a lot of ot her companies, and you may have a check from some ot her
firm operat ing under t he name Pan American. I dont t hink you have one of our checks, Mr.
Rogers. I suggest you ret urn it and est ablish some sort of correspondence, he said helpfully.
Yeah, Ill do t hat , and t hanks, I said.
Monique flew t he Berlin-St ockholm-Copenhagen run for Air France, a t wo-day t urnaround
t rip, and t hen was off for t wo days. She had a flight t hat day. She was barely airborne when I
appeared in her fat hers shop. He was delight ed t o see me, and we had no t rouble conversing
bet ween t he French I had learned from my mot her and t he English of his young print er.
I displayed t he check Id got t en from t he Pan Am st ewardess, but wit h her name and t he
amount of t he check blocked out . I t alked t o our business-office people, I said. Now, weve
been having t hese checks print ed in America, a pret t y expensive process. I t old t hem I t hought
you could do t he job as well and at a subst ant ial savings. Do you t hink you can duplicat e t his
check in payroll-book form?
If you t hink you can, I am aut horized t o give you a t rial order of t en t housand, provided you
can beat t he New York price.
He was examining t he check. And what is your print ers cost for t hese in New York,
monsieur? he asked.
I hadnt t he faint est idea, but I named a figure I felt wouldnt offend New York print ers. Three
hundred and fift y dollars per t housand, I said.
He nodded. I can provide your company wit h a qualit y product t hat will exact ly duplicat e t his
one, and at $200 per t housand, he said eagerly. I t hink you will find our work most
sat isfact ory.
He hesit at ed, seemingly embarrassed. Monsieur, I know you and my daught er are close
friends, and I t rust you implicit ly, but it is cust omary t hat we receive a deposit of fift y percent ,
he said apologet ically.
I laughed. You will have your deposit t his aft ernoon, I said.
I went t o a Paris bank, dressed in my Pan Am pilot s uniform, and placed $1,000 on t he
count er of one of t he t ellers cages. I would like a cashiers check in t hat amount , please, I
said. The remit t or should be Pan American World Airways, and make t he check payable t o
Maurice Lavalier and Sons, Print ers, if you will.
I delivered t he check t hat aft ernoon. Papa Lavalier had an inspect ion sample ready for t he
following day. I examined t he work and had t o rest rain myself from whooping. The checks were
beaut iful. No, gorgeous. Real Pan Am checks, four t o a page, t went y-five pages t o t he book,
perforat ed and on IBM card st ock! I felt on t op of t he mount ain, and no mat t er it was a check
swindlers pinnacle.
Papa Lavalier filled t he ent ire order wit hin a week, and I again acquired a legit imat e cashiers
check, purport edly issued by Pan Am, for t he balance due him.
Papa Lavalier furnished me wit h invoices and receipt s and was pleased t hat I was pleased. It
probably never occurred t o him, having never dealt wit h Americans before, t hat t here was
anyt hing st range about our dealings. I was a Pan Am pilot . His daught er vouched for me. And
t he checks he received were valid checks, issued by Pan Am.
I hope we can do more work for your company, my friend, he said.
Oh, you will, you will, I assured him. In fact , were so delight ed wit h your work t hat we may
refer ot hers t o you.
There were ot her referrals, all phony, and all handled personally by me, but Papa Lavalier
never quest ioned anyt hing I asked. From t he t ime he delivered t he 10,000 Pan Am checks, he
was t he print er of any spurious document I needed or desired, an innocent dupe who felt
grat eful t o me for having opened t he door of t he American market t o him.
Of course I had no need of 10,000 Pan Am checks. The size of t he order was simply t o avert
any suspicion. Even Papa Lavalier knew Pan Am was a behemot h of t he airline indust ry. An
order for a lesser number of checks might have made him wary.
I kept a t housand of t he checks and fueled t he incinerat ors of Paris wit h t he remainder.
Then I bought an IBM elect ric t ypewrit er and made out a check t o myself for $781.45, which I
present ed t o t he nearest bank, garbed as a Pan Am pilot .
It was a small bank. Monsieur, I am cert ain t his check is a good one, but I would have t o
verify it before I cash it , and we are not allowed t o make t ransat lant ic calls at t he banks
expense, he said wit h a wry smile. If you would care t o pay for t he call... He looked at me
ques-t ioningly.
I shrugged. Sure, go ahead. Ill pay what ever t he call cost s.
I hadnt ant icipat ed such a precaut ion on t he banks part , but neit her was I alarmed. And I
had inadvert ent ly chosen a t ime t o cash t he check when it s wort h as a count erfeit could be
t est ed. It was 3:15 P.M. in Paris. The banks in New York had been open for fift een minut es. It
required about t he same lengt h of t ime for t he t eller t o be connect ed wit h t he bookkeeping
depart ment of t he Chase Manhat t an Bank. The French t eller was proficient in English,
alt hough wit h an accent . I have a check here, present ed by a Pan American pilot , drawn on
your bank in t he amount of $781.45, American dollars, said t he t eller, and proceeded t o give
t he account number across t he bot t om left -hand corner of t he sham check.
I see, yes, t hank you very much.. . . Oh, t he weat her here is fine, t hank you. He hung up and
smiled. Every t ime I t alk t o America, t hey want t o know about t he weat her. He handed me
t he check t o endorse and commenced count ing out t he amount of t he check, less $8.92 for
t he t elephone call. All t hings considered, it was not an unreasonable service charge.
I showered Paris and it s suburban environs wit h t he bogus checks, and rent ed a safe-
deposit box, for a five-year period paid in advance, in which t o st ore my loot . Very rarely was a
check quest ioned, and t hen it was only a mat t er of verificat ion, and if t he banks in New York
were closed, I would ret urn t o t he bank when t hey were open. Only once did I experience a
t ense moment . Inst ead of calling Chase Manhat t an, one t eller called Pan Ams business office
in New York! Not once was my assumed name ment ioned, but I heard t he t eller give t he name
of t he bank, t he account number and t he name of t he Pan Am compt roller.
Pan Am must have verified t he check, for t he t eller paid it .
I was ast onished myself at t he ease and smoot hness of my new operat ion. My God, I was
now having my fict it ious checks cleared by t elephone and by Pan Am it self. I rent ed a car and
while Monique was flying I drove around France, cashing t he checks in every village bank and
big-cit y t reasury t hat loomed in sight . I have never verified t he suspicion, but I oft en t hought in
lat er mont hs and years t hat t he reason I was so successful wit h t hose part icular Pan Am
checks was because Pan Am was paying t hem!
Papa Lavalier received a lot of business from me. I had him make me up a new Pan Am ID
card, much more impressive t han my own fraudulent one, aft er a real Pan Am pilot carelessly
left his IE) card on t he bar in t he Windsor. Ill give it t o him, I t old t he bart ender. I did mail it t o
him, in care of Pan Ams New York offices, but only aft er Id had Papa Lavalier copy it and
subst it ut e my own phony name, fake rank and phot ograph.
I had t old t he Lavaliers t hat I was in Paris as a special represent at ive of Pan Am, doing public
relat ions for t he firm. A mont h aft er meet ing Monique, however, I t old her I had t o ret urn t o
flying st at us as a st andby pilot , and caught a plane t o New York. I arrived short ly before noon
on a Tuesday and went immediat ely t o t he nearest branch of t he Chase Manhat t an Bank,
where I purchased a $1,200 cashiers check, wit h Roger D. Williams as remit t or and Frank W.
Williams as payee.
I t ook a plane back t o Paris t hat same day, checked int o t he King George V t his t ime, and
once in my room alt ered t he Federal Reserve Dist rict number on t he check so t hat , when
cashed, it would be rout ed t o San Francisco or Los Angeles.
Then I t ook t he check t o Papa Lavalier. I need t hree hundred of t hese, I said.
I t hought surely he would quest ion t he duplicat ion of what was obviously a money order, but
he didnt . I learned lat er t hat he never really underst ood what he was print ing when he did jobs
for me, but performed wit h a blind fait h in my int egrit y.
I flew back t o New York t he day aft er receiving t he t hree hundred duplicat es, each an image
of t he original. There are 112 branches of Chase Manhat t an in t he New York met ropolit an area
alone. Over a period of t hree days I called at sixt y of t he branches, present ing one of t he
replicas in each bank. Only once in t he sixt y inst ances were t here more t han perfunct ory words
passed.
Sir, I know t his is one of Chases checks, but it wasnt issued from t his branch, she said
apologet ically. I will have t o call t he issuing bank. Can you wait a minut e?
Cert ainly, go ahead, I said easily.
She made her call wit hin earshot of me. No part of t he conversat ion surprised me. Yes, t his
is Janice in Queens. Cashiers check 023685, can you t ell me whom it was issued t o, how much,
when and what s t he current st at us on it ? She wait ed, t hen apparent ly repeat ed what shed
been t old. Frank W. Williams, $1,200, January 5, current ly out st anding. I must have it right here.
Thank you very much.
Im sorry, sir, she said, smiling as she count ed out t he cash.
That s all right , I said. And you should never apologize for doing your job well. I meant it ,
t oo. That girl got st ung, but shes st ill t he kind banks should hire. And she saved Chase a
bundle. I had int ended t o hit at least 100 Chase branches, but aft er she made her call, I pulled
up on t hat part icular caper.
I figured I couldnt afford anot her call t o t he bank t hat had issued t he original check. I knew
t he odds favored me, but I couldnt chance t he same bookkeeping clerk answering t he phone if
some ot her t eller decided t o go behind t he check.
New York made me nervous. I felt I should head for a foreign clime again, but I couldnt decide
whet her t o ret urn t o Paris and Monique or visit some new and excit ing place.
While I was debat ing wit h myself, I flew t o Bost on, where I got myself flung int o jail and
robbed a bank. The former was a shock, like an unplanned pregnancy. The lat t er was t he
result of an irresist ible impulse.
I went t o Bost on simply t o get out of New York. I t hought it would be as good as any place
along t he east ern seaboard as a point of embarkat ion, and it also had a lot of banks. On arrival,
I st owed my bags in an airport rent al locker, put t he key in my ID folder and called at several of
t he banks, exchanging some of my Pan Am check facsimiles for genuine currency. I ret urned t o
t he airport early in t he evening, int ending t o cat ch an overseas flight as soon as possible. I had
garnered over $5,000 in my felonious foray t hrough Bean Town, and I st owed $4,800 of it in my
bags before checking on what foreign flight s were available t hat night .
I didnt have a chance t o make my inquiries unt il lat e t hat night . Turning away from t he
locker, I encount ered a pret t y Allegheny Airlines st ewardess from my embryo days as a pilot
wit hout port folio.
Frank! What a neat surprise! she exclaimed. Nat urally, we had t o have a reunion. I didnt
get back t o t he airport unt il aft er 11 P.M., and by t hen Id decided t o go t o Miami and make an
overseas connect ion from t here.
I walked up t o t he Allegheny Airlines count er. Whens your next connect ing flight t o Miami?
I asked t he t icket agent on dut y, a man. I had changed int o my pilot s uniform.
You just missed it . He grimaced.
Whos got t he next flight , Nat ional, American, who? I inquired.
No one, he said. Youve missed any flight t o Miami unt il t omorrow. Not hing flies out of here
aft er midnight . Bost ons got a noise-cont rol ordinance, now, and no out going t raffic is allowed
aft er midnight . No airline can put a plane in t he air unt il 6:30 A.M., and t he first flight t o Miami is
Nat ionals at 10:15 A.M.
But it s only 11:40 now, I said.
He grinned. Okay. You want t o go t o Burlingt on, Vermont ? That s t he last flight out
t onight .
All t hings considered, I declined. I walked over and sat down in one of t he lobby chairs,
mulling t he sit uat ion. The lobby, like most large airport vest ibules, was ringed wit h gift shops,
newsst ands, coffee shops, bars and various ot her shops, and I not ed idly, while cogit at ing, t hat
most of t hem were closing. I also not ed, suddenly int erest ed, t hat many of t hem were st opping
at t he night deposit ory of a large Bost on bank, sit uat ed near t he middle of one exit corridor,
and dropping bags or bulky envelopesobviously t heir days receipt sint o t he st eel-faced
recept acle.
My observat ion was int errupt ed by t wo chilling words:
Frank Abagnale?
I looked up, quelling a surge of panic. Two t all, grim-visaged Massachuset t s st at e t roopers, in
uniform, st ood over me.
You are Frank Abagnale, arent you? demanded t he one in st ony t ones.
My name is Frank, but it s Frank Williams, I said, and I was surprised t hat t he calm,
unflust ered reply had issued from my t hroat .
May I see your ident ificat ion, please? asked t he one. The words were spoken polit ely, but
his eyes said if I didnt prompt ly produce my ID, he was going t o pick me up by t he ankles and
shake it out of my pocket s.
I handed over my ID card and my fraudulent FAA pilot s license. Look, I dont know what t his
is all about , but youre badly mist aken, I said as I t endered t he document s. I fly for Pan
American, and t hese ought t o be proof enough.
The one st udied t he ID card and license, t hen passed t hem t o his part ner. Why dont you
knock off t he bullshit , son? Youre Frank Abagnale, arent you? said t he second one, almost
gent ly.
Frank who? I prot est ed, feigning anger t o cover my increasing nervousness. I dont know
who t he hell youre aft er, but it s not me!
The one frowned. Well, we aint gonna st and around here arguing wit h you, he growled.
Come on, were t aking you in.
They didnt ask where my luggage was, and I didnt volunt eer. They t ook me out side, placed
me in t heir pat rol car and drove me direct ly t o t he st at e police offices. There I was ushered int o
t he office of a harried-looking lieut enant , whom I assumed was t he shift commander.
What t he hell is t his? he demanded in exasperat ed t ones.
Well, we t hink it s Frank Abagnale, Lieut enant , said one of t he t roopers. He says hes a
pilot for Pan Am.
The lieut enant eyed me. You dont look very old t o be a pilot , he said. Why dont you t ell
t he t rut h? Youre Frank Abagnale. Weve been looking for him for a long t ime. Hes supposed t o
be a pilot , t oo. You fit his descript ionperfect ly.
Im t hirt y years old, my name is Frank Williams and I fly for Pan Am, and I want t o t alk t o my
lawyer, I shout ed.
The lieut enant sighed. You aint been charged wit h not hin yet , he said. Take him over t o
t he cit y jail, book him for vagrancy and t hen let him call a lawyer. And call t he feds. Hes t heir
pigeon. Let t hem st raight en it out .
Vagrancy! I prot est ed. Im no vagrant . Ive got nearly $200 on me.
The lieut enant nodded. Yeah, but you aint proved youre gainfully employed, he said
wearily. Get im out of here.
I was t aken t o t he count y jail in downt own Bost on, which had all t he appearances of a facilit y
t hat should have long ago been condemned, and had been, and I was t urned over t o t he
booking sergeant .
Damn me, what did he do? he queried, looking at me.
Just book him for vagrancy. Someone will pick him up in t he morning, said t he one t rooper.
Vagrant ! bellowed t he sergeant . By damn, if hes a vagrant , I hope you guys never bring in
any bums.
Just book him, grunt ed t he one t rooper, and he and his part ner left .
Empt y your pocket s, lad, t he sergeant said gruffly, pulling a form in t riplicat e from a drawer.
Ill give you a receipt for your goods.
I st art ed placing my valuables before him. List en, can I keep my ID card and pilot s license? I
asked. Company regulat ions say I have t o have t hem on me at all t imes. Im not sure if being
arrest ed is included, but Id st ill like t o keep t hem, if you dont mind.
The sergeant examined t he card and t he license and pushed t hem t oward me. Sure, he
said kindly. Id say t heres been some kind of mix-up here, lad. Im glad Im not involved.
A jailer t ook me upst airs and placed me in a dingy, rust y cell adjoining t he drunk t ank. If you
need anyt hing, just holler, he said sympat het ically.
I nodded, not replying, and slumped on t he cot . I was suddenly depressed, miserable and
scared. The game was over, I had t o admit . The FBI would pick me up in t he morning, I knew,
and t hen it would be just one court room aft er anot her, I figured. I looked around t he jail cell and
hoped t hat prison cells were more t enable. Jesus, t his was a rat hole. And I didnt have a prayer
of get t ing out . But t hen no man has a prayer, I t hought regret fully, when he worships a
hust lers god.
Even a hust lers god, however, has a legion of angels. And one appeared t o me now,
preceded by a t hin, wavering whist le, like a kid bolst ering his courage in a graveyard. He hauled
up in front of my cell, an apparit ion in a hideous, green-checked suit t opped by a face t hat
might have come out of a lobst er pot , quest ioning lips punct uat ed by an odorous cigar and
eyes t hat regarded me as a weasel might look on a mouse.
Well, now, what t he hell might you be doing in t here? he asked around t he cigar.
I didnt know who he was. He didnt look like anyone who could help me. Vagrancy, I said
short ly.
Vagrancy! he exclaimed, examining me wit h his shrewd eyes. Youre a pilot wit h Pan Am,
arent you? How t he hell can you be a vagrant ? Did somebody st eal all your planes?
Whore you? I asked.
He fished in his pocket and t hrust a card t hrough t he bars. Aloyius James Bailout Bailey, my
high-flying friend, he said. Bail bondsman par excellence. The cops bring em, I spring em.
Youre on t heir t urf, now, pal. I can put you on mine. The st reet .
Hope didnt exact ly spring et ernal in my breast , but it crow-hopped.
Well, Ill t ell you t he t rut h, I said caut iously. There was t his guy at t he airport . He was
get t ing pret t y obnoxious wit h a girl. I racked his ass. They ran us bot h in for fight ing. I shouldve
st ayed out of it . Ill probably lose my job when t he skipper finds out Im in jail.
He st ared at me, unbelieving. What t he hell you sayin? You aint got nobody t o bail you
out ? Call one of your friends, for Chris sakes.
I shrugged. I dont have any friends here. I flew in on a chart er cargo job. Im based in Los
Angeles.
What about t he rest of your crew? he demanded. Call one of t hem.
They went on t o Ist anbul, I lied. I got t ime off due me. I was going t o deadhead t o Miami t o
see a chick.
Well, goddamned! You have got your ass in a crack, havent you? said Aloyius James
Bailout Bailey. Then he smiled, and his feat ures suddenly t ook on t he charm of a jolly
leprechaun. Well, my fight er-pilot chum, let s see if we cant get your but t out of t his Bost on
bast ille.
He disappeared and was gone for an agonizing lengt h of t ime, all of t en minut es. Then he
hove t o in front of my cell again. Goddamn, your bond is $5,000, he said in a surprised t one.
Sarge says you must have given t he t roopers a hard t ime. How much money you got ?
My hopes came t o a st andst ill again. Just $200, maybe not t hat much, I sighed.
He mulled t he reply; his eyes narrowed. You got any ident ificat ion? he asked.
Sure, I said, passing my ID and pilot s license t hrough t he bars. You can see how long Ive
been a pilot , and Ive been wit h Pan Am seven years.
He handed back t he document s. You got a personal check? he asked abrupt ly.
Yeah, t hat is, t he sergeant downst airs has it , I said. Why?
Because Im gonna t ake your check, t hat s why, Jet Jockey, he said wit h a grin. You can
writ e it out when t he sarge let s you loose.
The sarge let me loose t hirt y-five minut es lat er. I wrot e Bailey a check for t he st andard 10
percent , $500, and handed him a hundred in cash. That s a bonus, in lieu of a kiss, I said,
laughing wit h joy. Id give you t he kiss except for t hat damned cigar!
He drove me t o t he airport aft er I t old him I was t aking t he first flight t o Miami.
This is what happened lat er. I have it on unimpeachable sources, as t he Whit e House
report ers are fond of saying. An ecst at ic ORiley, high enough wit h joy t o require a pilot s
license himself, showed up at t he jail. Abagnale, or what ever t he hell name youve got him
booked under, t rot him out , he chort led.
He made bond at t hree-t hirt y t his morning, volunt eered a jailer. The sergeant had gone
home.
ORiley flirt ed wit h apoplexy. Bond! Bond! Who t he hell bonded him out ? he finally shrieked
in st rangled t ones.
Bailey, Bailout Bailey, who else? replied t he jailer.
ORiley wrat hfully sought out Bailey. Did you post bond for a Frank Wiliams t his morning? he
demanded.
Bailey looked at him, ast onishd. The pilot ? Sure, I went his bail. Why t he hell not ?
Howd he pay you? How much? ORiley grat ed.
Why, t he regular amount , $500. Ive got his check right here, said Bailey, offering t he
voucher.
ORiley looked at t he check and t hen dropped it on Baileys desk. Serves your ass right , he
growled, and t urned t oward t he door.
What do you mean? Bailey demanded as t he FBI agent grasped t he door handle.
ORiley grinned wickedly. Run it t hrough your bank account , t urd, and youll find out what I
mean.
Out side, a Massachuset t s det ect ive t urned t o ORiley. We can get out an APB on him.
ORiley shook his head. Forget it . That bast ards five hundred miles away. No Bost on cops
gonna cat ch him.
A prudent man would have been five hundred miles away. I wasnt prudent . When youre hot ,
youre hot , and I had t he cajones of a billy goat .
No sooner had Bailey dropped me at t he airport , and was gone, t han I grabbed a cab and
checked in at a nearby mot el.
The next morning I called t he bank t hat had a branch at t he airport . Securit y, please, I said
when t he swit chboard operat or answered.
Securit y.
Yeah, list en, t his is Connors, t he new guard. I dont have a uniform for t onight s shift . My
damned uniform got ripped up in an accident . Where can I get a replacement , lady? I spoke in
out rage.
Well, we get our uniforms from Beke Brot hers, t he woman replied in mollifying t ones. Just
go down t here, Mr. Connors. Theyll out fit you wit h a replacement .
I looked up t he address of Beke Brot hers. I also had my fingers do some walking t hrough
ot her sect ions of t he Yellow Pages.
I went first t o Beke Brot hers. No one quest ioned my st at us. Wit hin fift een minut es I walked
out wit h a complet e guards out fit : shirt , t ie, t rousers and hat , t he name of t he bank
emblazoned over t he breast pocket and on t he right shoulder of t he shirt . I st opped at a
police-supply firm and picked up a Sam Browne belt and holst er. I called at a gun shop and
picked up a replica of a .38 police special.
It was harmless, but only an idiot would have ignored it were it point ed at him. I t hen rent ed a
st at ion wagon, and when I left my mot el each door sport ed a sign proclaiming
SECURITYBEAN STATE NATIONAL BANK.
At 11:15 P.M. I was st anding at at t ent ion in front of t he night -deposit box of t he Bean St at e
Nat ional Bank Airport Branch, and a beaut ifully let t ered sign adorned t he safes deposit ory:
NIGHT DEPOSIT VAULT OUT OF ORDER, PLEASE
MAKE DEPOSITS WITH SECURITY OFFICER.
There was an upright dolly, wit h a large mail-t ype bag bulking open, in front of t he
deposit ory.
At least t hirt y-five people dropped bags or envelopes int o t he cont ainer.
Not one of t hem said more t han Good evening or Good night .
When t he last shop had closed, I secured t he t op of t he canvas bag and began hauling t he
loot t o t he st at ion wagon. I became st uck t rying t o get t he dolly over t he weat her st rip of t he
exit door. Try as I might , I couldnt get t he damned t hing across t he lit t le ridge. It was just t oo
heavy.
What s going on, buddy?
I t wist ed my head and nearly soiled my drawers. They werent t he same ones, but a pair of
st at e t roopers was st anding less t han five feet away.
Well, t he box is out of order, and t he t ruck broke down, and Ive got t he banks st at ion
wagon out here and no goddamned hydraulic pulley, and I aint exact ly Samson, I said, grinning
sheepishly.
The older one, a ruddy-faced redhead, laughed. Well, hell, let us help you wit h it , he said,
and st epped forward and grabbed t he handle of t he dolly. Wit h t hree of us t ugging, it came
over t he ridge easily. They helped me drag t he dolly t o t he st at ion wagon and assist ed me in
lift ing t he bulky, cumbersome cargo int o t he back of t he vehicle. I slammed shut t he t ailgat e
and t urned t o t he officers.
I appreciat e it , boys, I said, smiling. Id spring for t he coffee, but Ive got t o get t his lit t le
fort une t o t he bank.
They laughed and one lift ed a hand. Hey, no sweat . Next t ime, okay?
Less t han an hour lat er, I had t he boot y in my mot el room and was sort ing out t he cash. Bills
only. I t ossed t he change, credit -card receipt s and checks int o t he bat ht ub.
I net t ed $62,800 in currency. I changed int o a casual suit , wrapped t he haul in a spare shirt
and drove t o t he airport , where I ret rieved my bags. An hour lat er I was on a flight t o Miami. I
had a t hirt y-minut e layover in New York. I used t he t ime t o call t he manager of t he airport in
Bost on. I didnt get him but I got his secret ary.
List en, t ell t he Bean St at e Bank people t hey can get t he majorit y of t he loot from last
night s deposit ory caper in t he bat ht ub of Room 208, Rest Haven Mot el, I said and hung up.
The next day I winged out of Miami, bound for Ist anbul.
I had an hours layover in Tel Aviv.
I used it upholding my code of honor. In my ent ire career, I never yenched a square John as
an individual.
I sought out a branch of an American bank. And laid a sheaf of bills on t he count er before a
t eller.
I want a $5,000 cashiers check, I said.
Yes, sir. And your name?
Frank Abagnale, Jr., I said.
All right , Mr. Abagnale. Do you want t his check made out t o you?
I shook my head. No, I said. Make it payable t o Aloyius James Bailout Bailey, in Bost on,
Massachuset t s.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Small Crew Will Do Its Just a Paper Airplane
An ent ourage is expect ed of some people. The President . Queen Elizabet h. Frank Sinat ra.
Muhammad Ali. Arnold Palmer. Most celebrit ies, in fact .
And airline pilot s.
Wheres your crew, sir? asked t he desk clerk in t he Ist anbul hot el. It was a quest ion Id
encount ered before.
I dont have a crew wit h me, I replied. I just flew in t o replace a pilot who became ill. It was
my st andard answer t o such queries, which were much more numerous in Europe and t he
Middle East t han in t he Unit ed St at es. Cont inent al hot els, obviously, were more accust omed t o
cat ering t o ent ire air crews. A lone pilot aroused curiosit y.
And curiosit y breeds suspicion.
I needed a crew, I mused t hat evening while dining in a Turkish rest aurant . I had doffed my
uniform. Save on special occasions, I now wore it only when checking in and checking out of a
hot el, passing a check or cadging a free ride.
The mat t er of a crew had ent ered my mind before. In fact , it ent ered my mind each t ime I
saw a command pilot surrounded by his crew. His st at us was not only more believable t han
mine, but he also always seemed t o be having much more fun t han I. St ews, I had not iced,
t ended t o act as handmaidens t o t he pilot s. My life as a bogus birdman, on t he ot her hand,
was essent ially a lonely exist ence. But t hen a man on t he run is usually a forlorn figure. It s hard
t o play t he social lion when youre moving like a scalded cat . My dalliances, by and large, had all
t he permanency of rabbit s relat ionships and about t he same degree of sat isfact ion.
My fant asies of an aircrew of my own, of course, were mot ivat ed by more t han just a desire
for companionship. An aircrewand I t hought of an aircrew only in t erms of st ewardesses
would lend concret e validit y t o my role of airline pilot . I had learned t hat a solit ary pilot was
always subject t o scrut iny. Conversely, a pilot t railing a squad of lovely st ewardesses would
almost cert ainly be above- suspicion. If I had a beaut iful bevy of flight at t endant s wit h me in my
t ravels, I could scat t er my valueless checks like confet t i and t heyd be accept ed like rice at a
wedding, I t hought . Not t hat I was having any t rouble passing t hem at present , but I was
passing t hem one at a t ime. Wit h a crew behind me, I could cash t he sham checks in mult iple
numbers.
I left Ist anbul aft er a week and flew t o At hens. Dont you have a crew wit h you, sir? asked
t he hot el desk clerk. I gave him my usual reply, feeling harassed.
The next day I flew t o Paris t o visit t he Lavaliers. I wish you flew for Air France. I could be a
member of your crew, Monique said at one point during t he visit . The remark convinced me
t hat an aircrew was a necessit y.
But how did a pilot wit hout port folio, who didnt know how t o fly, go about assembling an
aircrew? I could hardly gat her a few girls at random and propose, Hey, kids, wanna go t o
Europe? Ive got t his great scheme for passing wort hless checks . . . And since I had absolut ely
no connect ions in t he underworld, American or European, I couldnt look for help t here.
I was in West Berlin when a solut ion present ed it self. It was long-range and fraught wit h
risks, but it was also challenging. Pan Ams hives had always provided t he bulk of my honey. If
t he carrier wasnt my parent company, I was in a sense it s bast ard child, and t his was an issue
demanding filial loyalt y.
Id let Pan Am furnish me a flight crew.
I flew t o New York and on arrival called Pan Ams personnel office, represent ing myself as t he
placement direct or of a small west ern college, Prescot t Presbyt erian Normal. Im aware t hat
you people send employment recruit ing t eams t o various colleges and universit ies, and I
wondered if you might possibly have our school on your schedule t his year? I said.
Im sorry, we dont , said t he Pan Am personnel officer who t ook my call. However, we will
have a t eam on t he Universit y of Arizona campus during t he last t wo weeks in Oct ober,
int erviewing st udent s for various posit ions, and Im sure t heyd be glad t o t alk t o any of your
st udent s who might be int erest ed in a career wit h Pan Am. If you like, we can mail you some
brochures.
That would be nice, I said, and gave him a fict it ious address for my nonexist ent college.
Mine was a plan t hat demanded t he boldness of a mount ain climber. I donned my uniform
and went t o Pan Ams Hangar 14 at Kennedy. Wit h my phony ID card dangling from my breast
pocket , I had no t rouble at all gaining ent rance, and I spent a leisurely half hour roaming
t hrough t he st ores depart ment unt il I had accumulat ed t he supplies I needed: envelopes, large
manila holders and st at ionery, all boast ing Pan Ams let t erhead, a pad of employment
applicat ion forms and a st ack of colorful brochures.
Back in my mot el room, I sat down and composed a let t er t o t he direct or of t he Universit y of
Arizona placement office. Pan Am, I said, was init iat ing a new recruit ing t echnique t his year. In
addit ion t o t he regular personnel recruit ers who would visit t he campus in Oct ober, t he let t er
st at ed, Pan Am was also fielding pilot s and st ewardesses t o int erview prospect ive pilot s and
flight at t endant s, since act ual flight personnel could offer a bet t er perspect ive of what a flying
posit ion wit h Pan Am would ent ail and could also bet t er evaluat e t he applicant s.
A pilot will be visit ing your campus on Monday, Sept ember 9, and will be available for t hree
days t o int erview st ewardess applicant s, t he spurious let t er st at ed. Under separat e cover,
we are sending you some brochures and employment applicat ion forms which you might wish
t o dist ribut e t o int erest ed st udent s.
I signed t he name of Pan Ams direct or of personnel t o t he let t er and placed it in a Pan Am
envelope. I packaged t he brochures and applicat ion forms in one of t he large manila holders.
Then I went t o Pan Ams office building, sought out t he airlines mail room and dropped t he
missives off wit h a young clerk, brusquely ordering t hey be sent air mail.
I t hought Pan Ams own post age met er, wit h it s lit t le Pan Am blurb, Worlds Most
Experienced Airline, would add a lit t le class t o t he count erfeit mailings.
I dispat ched t he let t er and t he ot her mat erial on August 18. On August 28 I called t he
Universit y of Arizona and was connect ed wit h John Henderson, direct or of st udent placement .
Mr. Henderson, t his is Frank Williams, a co-pilot for Pan American World Airways, I said. I
am scheduled t o visit your campus in a couple of weeks, and Im calling t o see if you received
our mat erial and if t he dat es are suit able.
Oh, yes, Mr. Williams, ent hused Henderson. Were looking forward t o your visit and we did
receive your mat erial. In fact , weve post ed it about campus, and you should have a goodly
number of applicant s.
Well, I dont know what was in t he let t er you received, I lied. But I have been inst ruct ed by
t he flight supervisor t o int erview only juniors and seniors.
We underst and t hat , Mr. Williams, Henderson said. In fact , all t he inquiries I have received
so far have been from juniors or seniors. He volunt eered quart ers on t he campus for me, but I
declined, saying Id already made reservat ions wit h a hot el favored by t he company.
I appeared on t he Universit y of Arizona campus at 8 A.M., Monday, Sept ember 9, and
Henderson greet ed me cordially. I was, of course, in uniform. Henderson had set aside a small
room for my use during my st ay. We have t hirt y applicant s t o dat e, and I have scheduled t hem
t o appear in lot s of t en each day, he said. I know, of course, youll be t alking t o t hem
individually, and you can set your own daily schedule, if you wish. But t he first t en will be here at
9 A.M.
Well, I t hink Ill t alk t o t hem as a group at first , and t hen int erview t hem individually, I said.
The first group of t en coeds was, collect ively and individually, simply lovely. More t han ever,
looking at t hem, I saw t he need for a crew of my own. The t en of t hem eyed me like I was Elvis
Presley about t o swing int o act ion.
I affect ed a businesslike air. First of all, ladies, I want you t o know t his is as new t o me as it is
t o you. Im more used t o a cockpit t han a classroom, but t he company has assigned me t his
t ask and I hope I can carry it out successfully. Wit h your help and underst anding, I t hink I can.
I say underst anding because I dont have t he final say as t o who will be hired and who will
not . My job is just t o select girls who I t hink would be most suit able as flight at t endant s and t o
make a recommendat ion in t heir behalf The personnel direct or has t he aut horit y t o reject any
or all of t he candidat es I offer. However, I can also say t hat you might be hired on my
recommendat ion wit hout your having t o be int erviewed by anyone else.
There is also t hisit s unlikely any of you will be hired by Pan Am before you graduat e. But
if you are select ed as a fut ure st ewardess, it s our policy t o give you some sort of assist ance
during your last year in school just so you wont be t empt ed t o t ake some ot her job. Am I
making myself clear?
I was. The girls said so. I t hen dismissed t hem as a group and began int erviewing t hem
individually. I wasnt really sure of t he t ype of girl I want ed in my crew, but I was sure of t he
t ype I didnt want . I didnt want a girl who couldnt handle it if she learned shed been conned
int o an elaborat e scam.
Tot ally naive and pat ent ly prudish candidat es I crossed off immediat ely. Those who were
personable and at t ract ive, but superst raight (t he kind of girl an airline would like as a
st ewardess), I marked as quest ionable. I put check marks aft er t he names of girls who
impressed me as easygoing, somewhat gullible, a lit t le daring or devil-may-care, ult raliberal or
not likely t o panic in a crisis. I t hought t he girls who possessed such t rait s would be t he best
bet s for my make-believe flight squad.
Henderson sat in during t he morning sessions, but during t he lunch break he led me t o a file
room behind his office and showed me an ent rance near where I was int erviewing t he girls. He
handed me a key t o t he door. Theres very rarely anyone on dut y here, since our st udent
records syst em is complet ely comput erized, he said. So youll need t his key. Now, Ive pulled
t he files of all t he applicant s and put t hem aside on t his desk here, in case you want t o st udy
t he record of a part icular girl. This way, you can operat e pret t y much on your own, alt hough
well be available t o help you if you feel you need help, of course.
I was int rigued wit h t he record-keeping syst em and Henderson obligingly showed me how
t he syst em worked before t aking me t o lunch as his guest .
I finished wit h t he first t en applicant s early in t he aft ernoon and t he following morning met
t he second bat ch of candidat es. I gave t hem t he same spiel, and like t he first t en, t hey were
equally amenable t o my t erms. The last girls, t oo, were exposed t o t he same con, and by t he
aft ernoon of t he t hird day I had narrowed t he field t o t welve candidat es.
I spent a couple of hours st udying t he files of t he t welve on an individual basis, recalling my
own int erviews wit h t hem and my impressions of t hem, before set t ling on eight . I was leaving
t he records room when I was seized wit h an amusing whim, one t hat t ook me less t han t hirt y
minut es t o sat isfy. When I left t he room, Frank Abagnale, Jr., a nat ive of Bronxville, had
t ranscript s in t he files showing him t o have earned bot h a bachelors degree and a mast ers
degree in social work.
The next morning I delivered my t hesis t o my eight finalist s, since t hey were t he lambs who
had made possible my whimsical sheepskins.
The girls were excit ed when I assembled t hem, in t he perfect mood for t he con I put down.
Calm down, please, calm down, I implored t hem. You havent been hired as st ewardesses. I
t hink you ought t o know t hat now.
The words achieved t he desired mult iple shock. And moment ary t ot al silence. Then I grinned
and laid it on t hem. That s because youre all juniors and we want you t o finish your educat ion
before joining Pan Am, I said.
I t hink I ment ioned before t hat t he company likes t o assist approved st ewardess
candidat es during t heir last year in school, and Ive been aut horized t o make you eight girls an
offer I t hink youll find int erest ing.
I have been informed t hat t he company int ends t o hire a number of girls as summer int erns
for t he coming year, and t hese girls will be sent t o Europe in different groups t o act as
advert ising represent at ives and public relat ions people. That is, t heyll be used as models for
phot ographs for Pan Am ads in various world publicat ionsIm sure youve all seen t he kind Im
t alking about and some will be used as speakers at schools, civic group meet ings, business
seminars and t hat sort of t hing. It s a show-t he-com-pany-flag t ype of t our and usually we use
real st ewardesses or professional models dressed up in flight -at t endant uniforms.
But t his coming summer, were going t o use girls whove applied for st ewardess posit ions
and it will serve as sort of a pret raining period for t hem. I personally t hink it s a good idea for
several reasons. One, it will allow our ad people t o use pict ures of our own personnel, depict ed
in cit ies we serve, and secondly, we wont have t o pull act ual st ewardesses off t he flight line
when a phot o sit uat ion calls for an act ual st ewardess. That s always made it t ougher on t he
ot her st ewardesses in t he past , because summer mont hs are our peak passenger mont hs,
and when we have t o pull at t endant s off flight dut y, ot her girls have t o do t heir work.
Now, if any or all of you would like t o t ake part in t he program t his summer, Im aut horized t o
hire you. Youll have an expense-paid t our of Europe. Youll be paid t he same salary as a
st art ing st ewardess, and youll dress as st ewardesses, but you wont be st ewardesses. Well
supply your uniforms. Also, youll be given a let t er of employment , which is very import ant in t his
inst ance. It means t hat t hose of you who do decide t o become st ewardesses aft er graduat ion
will be applying as former Pan Am employees, and youll be given priorit y over all ot her
applicant s.
Do I have any t akers among you?
They all volunt eered. Okay, I said, smiling. Now, youll all need passport s. That s your
responsibilit y. Ill also need your addresses so t he company can keep in t ouch wit h you. Im sure
youll have your let t ers of employment wit hin a mont h. That s it , ladies. Ive cert ainly enjoyed
meet ing you all, and I hope t hat if and when you become st ewardesses, some of you will be
assigned t o my crew.
I informed Henderson of t he offer Id made t he girls, and he was as delight ed as t hey had
been. In fact , Henderson, his wife and t he eight girls all host ed me t hat night at a delight ful
dinner part y around t he pool in t he Hendersons back yard.
I flew back t o New York and rent ed a box wit h mail-answering service t hat had offices in t he
Pan Am Building. It was t he perfect cover, since it allowed me t o use Pan Ams own address in
subsequent correspondence I had wit h t he girls, but all t heir replies would be direct ed t o my
box wit h t he mail-service firm.
Aft er a week or so, I sent a let t er of employment t o each of t hem, along wit h a covering
let t er signed by myself (as Frank Williams) informing each of t hem t hat surprise! surprise!I
had been assigned by t he company t o head up t he European operat ion involving t hem, so
t hey were t o be my crew aft er all. I also enclosed a phony lit t le form Id made up, request ing
all t heir measurement s for purposes of having t heir uniforms made up. I direct ed each of t hem
t o address any fut ure quest ions or informat ion direct ly t o me, in care of my box number.
Then I t urned t o get t ing ready for t he t our myself. The passport I had was only a t emporary
one, and in my real name. I decided I needed a regular passport t hat I could use as Frank
Williams and decided t o t ake a chance t hat t he passport office in New York was t oo busy for
it s employees t o play cop.
I walked int o t he office one morning, t urned in my t emporary passport and t en days lat er was
issued a regular passport . I was pleased t o have t he document , but it was, aft er all, issued t o
Frank W. Abagnale, Jr. It was not a passport t hat would serve Pan Am First Officer Frank W.
Williams, should t he need ever arise. I st art ed looking around and found what I needed in t he
hall of records of a large East Coast cit y. It was t he deat h not ice of Francis W. Williams, age
t went y mont hs, who had died at t hat young age on November 22,1939. The archives disclosed
t he infant had been born on March 12, 1938, in a local hospit al. I obt ained a cert ified copy of
t he birt h cert ificat e for $3.00 by present ing myself t o one of t he clerks as t he same Francis W.
Williams. It seemed logical t o me, and Im sure it would make sense t o anyone else, t hat anyone
named Francis would prefer t o be called Frank.
I t ook t he copy of t he birt h cert ificat e t o t he passport office in Philadelphia, t oget her wit h t he
necessary phot os, and t wo weeks lat er had a second passport , one t hat mat ched my Pan Am
uniform. I was now ready t o command my crew, if not hing occurred in t he next several
mont hs t o upset my Arizona apple cart .
I spent t hose mont hs knocking around t he count ry, keeping a low profile in t he main, but
occasionally dropping a few phony Pan Am checks or count erfeit cashiers checks.
At one point I ended up in Miami, st aying in t he pent house suit e of a Miami Beach hot el, t he
Font ainebleau, under t he guise of a California st ock broker, complet e wit h a briefcase full of
$20s, $50s and $100s, and a rent ed Rolls-Royce, which I had leased in Los Angeles and driven
t o Florida.
It was all part of a grand scam I had in mind, which was t o drop some really big count erfeit
cashiers checks on some of t he Miami banks and some of it s more elit e hot els aft er
est ablishing a reput able front . I earned t he reput able front in large part sheerly by accident . I
had made it a point t o acquaint myself wit h some of t he hot els t op management people, and
one of t hem st opped me in t he lobby one aft ernoon and int roduced me t o a Florida broker, one
whose financial genius was known even t o me.
A st aunch Floridian, he had t he t rue Floridians t hinly disguised cont empt for California, and I
gat hered from most of his remarks during our casual encount er t hat he didnt hold California
st ockbrokers in any est eem, eit her. He was so blat ant ly rude and arrogant at t imes t hat t he
hot el execut ive was pat ent ly embarrassed. Aft er a few minut es I excused myself, he was so
host ile. He grasped my arm as I was leaving.
What s your opinion on t he Sat urn Elect ronics offering? he asked wit h a supercilious smirk.
Id never heard of t he company and in fact didnt know any such firm exist ed. But I regarded
him blandly, t hen dropped one eyelid. Buy all of it you can get your hands on, I said and
walked off.
A few days lat er I encount ered t he man again as we were bot h wait ing for our cars t o be
brought t o t he front ent rance. He greet ed me wit h grudging respect , which surprised me. I
should have list ened t o you on t hat Sat urn st ock, he said. How t he hell did you know Galaxy
Communicat ions was going t o t ake over t he company?
I just grinned and gave him anot her wink. Lat er I learned t hat Sat urn Elect ronics, aft er it s
acquisit ion by Galaxy, had closed from five t o eight point s up on each of t he previous four days.
That evening I was accost ed at t he elevat or by a well-groomed man in his t hirt ies who
int roduced himself as a prominent cit y official.
Rick [one of t he hot el execut ives] t old me about you, Mr. Williams, he said. He said you
might be set t ing up an office here and perhaps make your home in Miami during part of t he
year.
I nodded. Well, Im t hinking about it seriously, I said, smiling. Ill probably make up my mind
wit hin a few weeks.
Well, perhaps I can help you/ he said. My wife and I are giving a part y t onight and some of
t he cit ys and t he st at es t op government and business leaders are going t o be t here, including
t he mayor and some people from t he governors st aff. Id like t o invit e you, if youd consider
coming. I t hink it would be an enjoyable evening for you, and like I say, you might meet some
people who will help you make up your mind.
I accept ed his invit at ion, because he was right , in a way. It was quit e possible some of his
guest s could help me. By let t ing me fleece t hem.
It was a black-t ie affair, but I had no t rouble finding a t uxedo rent al shop t hat was open and
which could fit me on such short not ice. I also had no t rouble locat ing t he cit y fat hers home,
which proved t o be uncomfort ably close t o a cert ain bankers home. I hoped she wasnt a
guest also, but I had t he parking at t endant posit ion my car for a quick get away, just in case.
She wasnt a guest , but t he most st unning and at t ract ive blonde Ive ever encount ered,
before and since, was a guest . I not iced her moment s aft er I joined t he t hrong of guest s, and
she kept at t ract ing my at t ent ion all evening. Oddly enough, alt hough she seemed always t o be
t he cent er of a circle of admirers, she didnt seem t o be wit h any one of t he men paying her
court . My host confirmed t he fact .
That s Cheryl, he said. Shes a st andard decorat ion at part ies like t his. Shes a model and
shes been on t he covers of several magazines. We have a pret t y good arrangement wit h her.
She lends excit ement t o our part ies and we make sure she get s ment ioned in all t he societ y
columns. Come on, Ill int roduce you.
She made it immediat ely known t hat shed been curious about me also. I saw you arrive,
she said, ext ending her hand. That s a lovely Rolls. Is it yours or did you borrow it for t he
occasion?
No, it s one of mine, I said.
Her eyebrows arched. One of yours? Do you have more t han one Rolls-Royce?
I have several, I replied. Im a collect or. I knew from t he gleam in her eyes t hat Id made a
dear friend. She was obviously impressed by wealt h and mat erial possessions. In fact , I was
cont inually surprised t hroughout t he remainder of t he evening t hat such a beaut iful ext erior
masked such a venal and covet ous int erior. However, I wasnt int erest ed in her lack of virt ues. I
was at t ract ed by her obvious vices. She was avariciously gorgeous.
We werent t oget her t he ent ire evening. We would part occasionally and go prowling
separat ely, like t wo leopards seeking prey in t he same jungle. I found t he prey I was hunt ing, a
couple of fat and juicy bank pigeons. She also found her prey. Me.
I t ook her aside about 2:30 A.M. Look, t his part ys about dead, I proposed. Why dont we go
back t o my pent house and have some breakfast ?
Her reply was a blow t o my ego. What s it wort h t o you for me t o go back t o your hot el wit h
you? she asked, eying me provocat ively.
I t hought you were a model, I blurt ed, surprised.
She smiled. Therere different kinds of modeling. Some modeling jobs come higher t han
ot hers, she said.
I had never paid a girl t o go t o bed wit h me. The world of professional sex was an unknown
realm. To my knowledge, Id never before met a hooker or a call girl. But apparent ly I had now.
However, I st ill want ed her in my bed, and having est ablished her t rue calling, I made an
at t empt t o est ablish her price. What t he hell, I had plent y of money. Uh, $300? I vent ured.
She grimaced pret t ily and shook her head. No, Im afraid $300 isnt enough, she said.
I was ast onished. Obviously Id been cavort ing in luxury for years wit hout knowing t he value
of t he wares Id enjoyed. Oh, all right , let s double it and say $600, I said.
She gave me a coolly speculat ive look. That s closer, she said. But for a man of your
means, I should t hink it would be higher.
I looked at her and was irrit at ed. I had est ablished and followed a cert ain felonious code of
et hics since t aking up crime as a profession. Among ot her t hings, Id never diddled an individual.
For inst ance, Id never purchased a wardrobe or any ot her personal it em wit h a hot check. Too
many depart ment st ores and business firms held an individual salesperson responsible for
bogus checks. If a salesman t ook a check for a suit , and t he check bounced, t he cost of t he
suit came out of t he clerks salary. My t arget s had always been corporat e t arget sbanks,
airlines, hot els, mot els or ot her est ablishment s prot ect ed by insurance. When I splurged on a
new wardrobe or anyt hing else of a personal nat ure, I always hit a bank or a hot el for t he
needed cash.
It suddenly occurred t o me t hat Cheryl would make a lovely except ion t o my rule. Look, we
could st and here all night and argue price, I said. I hat e quibbling. Inst ead of going t o my place,
why dont we go t o your apart ment , spend an hour or so t here, and Ill give you $1,000.
She reached for her purse. Let s go, she agreed. But I dont have an apart ment at t he
moment . I lost my lease and Im st aying at a hot el in Miami Beach. She named t he hot el, which
was one not t oo far from mine, and we were t here wit hin t hirt y minut es.
She was insert ing her key int o t he door of her suit e when I t urned, saying, Ill be right back.
She grabbed my arm. Hey, wherere you going? she asked, somewhat agit at ed. Youre not
going t o back out , are you?
I t ook her hand off my arm. Look, you dont t hink I carry $1,000 in my pocket , do you? I said.
Im going downst airs and cash a check.
At t hree-t hirt y in t he morning! she exclaimed. Youre not going t o get a check cashed for
t hat amount at t his hour. You couldnt get one cashed for $100.
I smiled loft ily. I t hink so. I know t he owners of t his hot el. Besides, t his is a cert ified cashiers
check, drawn on t he Chase Manhat t an Bank in New York. It s like gold here. I cash t hem all t he
t ime.
Let me see it , she asked. I reached inside my jacket pocket and ext ract ed one of t he
Chase Manhat t an count erfeit s Id acquired before coming t o Miami. It was in t he amount of
$1,400. She examined t he voucher and nodded. It is like gold, she agreed. Why dont you just
endorse it over t o me?
Uh-uh/ I declined. This check is for $1,400. We agreed on $1,000, and while $400 isnt t hat
import ant , a deal is a deal.
I agree, she said. So endorse it . Ill give you t he $400. She dug in her purse and came up
wit h a t hin sheaf of $100s, from which she t ook four and handed t hem t o me. I endorsed t he
check and handed it t o her.
I have t he sequel from what report ers call reliable sources. Several days lat er, when her
bank informed her t he cashiers check was a count erfeit , she called t he Dade Count y Sheriffs
Depart ment , furious. She event ually was cont act ed by ORiley.
Whyd he give you t his check? asked ORiley.
That doesnt mat t er, she snapped. He gave it t o me, and it s bad, and I want t he bast ard
caught .
I know, said ORiley. But I also need t o know how t his man t hinks, so I can cat ch him. Your
descript ion fit s Frank Abagnale, but hes never given any bad paper t o an individual. He doesnt
even pass bad paper in ret ail st ores. Why, all of a sudden, is he giving a square John, and a
beaut iful woman at t hat , a wort hless check for $1,400? What was t he purpose?
ORiley is somet hing of a con art ist himself. He obt ained t he full st ory from her. I dont mind
his get t ing a free piece/ she concluded bit t erly. Hell, Ive given it away before. But t hat bast ard
conned me out of $400 cash. That I resent .
I have always agreed wit h ORileys assessment of t he mat t er. We bot h got screwed.
However, her session wit h me was probably more delight ful and less cost ly t han t he
encount ers I had wit h t he t wo bankers before leaving Miami. I ripped t hem off for more t han
$20,000 each. I also flimflammed t he Font aine-bleau by paying my bill wit h a count erfeit
cashiers check t hat yielded me several hundred dollars change.
I put t he Rolls in a st orage garage and sent a t elegram t o t he California leasing firm informing
t hem of it s whereabout s. Cheryl was right . It was a lovely car and deserved bet t er t han being
abandoned t o t he element s and vandals.
I holed up in Sun Valley, keeping a low profile and an honest demeanor, for t he wint er. As
spring approached, I flew back t o New York, set myself up in a brownst one flat in an elegant
sect ion of Manhat t an and dropped reminder not es t o each of my prospect ive st ews. The
replies I received assured me t hat my fict ional st at us as a Pan Am promot ional execut ive was
st ill believed, so I proceeded t o fulfill my fleshly fant asy. I knew t he name of t he Hollywood firm
t hat designed and manufact ured all of t he st ewardess uniforms for Pan Am. I flew t o
Hollywood and, wearing my Pan Am pilot s garb, called on t he fashion firm. I present ed a phony
let t er of int roduct ion t o t he woman in charge of Pan Ams account , det ailed t he fict ional public
relat ions t our of Europe and had my explanat ion accept ed at face value. Well have t he
ensembles ready in six weeks, she said. I presume you also want luggage for each of t he
girls?
Of course, I said.
I st ayed in t he Los Angeles area while t he girls clot hing was being fashioned, at t ending t o
ot her facet s necessary t o t he escapade. I paid a call t o t he Pan Am st ores depart ment at t he
Los Angeles Airport , dressed as a pilot , and picked up all t he hat and uniform emblems t heyd
need.
Id had all t he girls send me one-inch-square color phot ographs of t hemselves. I used t he
phot ographs t o make up fake Pan Am ID cards, similar t o mine, and list ing t he st at us of each
as flight at t endant .
When t he uniforms were ready, I picked t hem up personally, driving a rent ed st at ion wagon
wit h count erfeit Pan Am logos on t he doors, and paid for t he uniforms by signing an invoice for
t hem.
In lat e May I sent each of t he girls a let t er, enclosing an airline t icket for eacht icket s Id
bought and paid for wit h cashand t elling t hem t o assemble in t he lobby of t he Los Angeles
airport on May 26.
The gat hering of my eaglet s was one of t he boldest and more flamboyant product ions of my
poseur performances. I went t o one of t he more luxurious inns surrounding t he airport and
booked a room for each of t he girls, and also engaged, for t he day aft er t heir arrival, one of t he
hot els conference rooms. I made all t he bookings in Pan Ams firm name, alt hough I paid cash
for t he facilit ies. I sat iat ed t he curiosit y of t he assist ant manager who handled t he t ransact ion
by explaining t his was not regular Pan Am business but a special feat ure of t he airlines
promot ion depart ment .
On t he morning t he girls were t o arrive, I donned my Pan Am pilot s uniform and visit ed Pan
Ams operat ional depart ment at t he airport , seeking out t he manager of t he carriers car pool.
Look, Ive got eight st ewardesses coming in at t wo P.M. t oday on a special assignment , and
I need some t ransport at ion t o get t hem t o t he hot el, I said. You t hink you can help me out ?
Sure, he said. Ive got a regular crew wagon available. Ill pick t hem up myself. You gonna
be t here?
Ill just meet you here at one-t hirt y and go wit h you/ I said. You need me t o sign anyt hing?
Nah, I got you covered/ Jet man. He grinned. Just have one my size.
The girls showed up on t ime and were duly impressed wit h t he gleaming Pan Am crew
wagon, which was act ually just an oversized st at ion wagon. The pool chief and I loaded t heir
luggage and he drove us all t o t he hot el, where he again assist ed in unloading t heir luggage
and get t ing t he girls sit uat ed. I offered t o buy him a drink aft er we were t hrough, but he
declined. I like your kind of dut y, he said, grinning. Just call on me anyt ime.
The next morning I assembled t he girls in t he conference room, where I passed out t heir ID
cards and present ed t hem wit h t heir uniforms and luggage. They squealed wit h delight as t hey
inspect ed t he ensembles and t he luggage, each piece of which was monogrammed wit h t he
owners name and Pan Ams logo.
There were more squeals of joy as I out lined our it in-nerary: London, Paris, Rome, At hens,
Geneva, Munich, Berlin, Madrid, Oslo, Copenhagen, Vienna and ot her European spas. I quiet ed
t hem down and t ook on t he air of a st ern fat her.
Now, t his sounds like a lot of fun, and I hope it will be, but were on serious business, and I
wont put up wit h any nonsense, I t old t hem. I have t he aut horit y t o discharge any one of you
for misconduct or for goofing off, and I will send you home if I have t o. Let s get one t hing
st raight Im t he boss and you will live by my inst ruct ions and follow t he policies I out line. I t hink
youll find my rules eminent ly fair, and you should have no t rouble following t hem, and t herefore
no t rouble at all.
First off, youll not ice t hat each of you is ident ified as a st ewardess on your ID card. As far as
t he personnel of t he hot els where well be st aying, and t he phot ographers wit h whom well be
working are concerned, you are st ewardesses. But we will all t ravel as civilians, and t hat
includes flying or driving, and I will t ell you when you are t o wear t he uniforms. Youre on a very
desirable t our, dut y t hat could cause some dissension and jealousy among our regular cadre of
flight at t endant s, male and female. So if you do have occasion t o mingle wit h regular flight
crews, just say youre wit h our New York public relat ions office, on a special assignment , and
answer as few quest ions about your act ual st at us as possible. If anyone presses, refer him or
her t o me.
Now, youll be paid every t wo weeks, a regular company paycheck. It s very difficult t o cash a
check in Europe, so when I give you your paycheck, if youll just endorse it , Ill cash it at t he local
Pan Am office or at one of t he banks or hot els wit h which weve made arrangement s.
Now I know some of you are wondering why you cant just send your checks home t o be
deposit ed. Therere t wo reasons. First , t he checks will probably be issued on one of our foreign
account s. The company likes t he checks t o be cashed in Europe. Second is t he exchange rat e.
If you cash a check yourself, it will be cashed at t he current exchange rat e and youll usually
end up losing money. So Ill cash your checks, give you t he cash and t hen if you want t o send
any money home, you can send a money order or a cashiers check home. Does anyone have
any quest ions?
No one did. I smiled. Okay, t hen, youre on your own for t he rest of t he day and t he night .
But get a good night s sleep. We leave t omorrow for London.
We did, t oo, using t icket s t hat had cost me a small fort une in cash. We landed in London in a
clammy, predawn rain and I inst ruct ed t he girls t o change int o t heir st ewardess uniforms before
we went t o t he hot el.
I was, underst andably, nervous and apprehensive at t he out set of my scheme, but I plunged
ahead recklessly. I even checked us in at t he Royal Gardens in Kensingt on, gambling t hat none
of t he employees would associat e TWA Pilot Frank Adams wit h Pan Am First Officer Frank
Williams. I hired a van t o t ake us from t he airport t o t he hot el, and t he regist rat ion clerk, t o my
relief, was a t ot al st ranger t o me.
Were Pan Am Flight 738, I said. We were divert ed from Shannon and I dont know if
anyone made reservat ions for us or not .
No problem, Capt ain, said t he clerk. That is, if t he girls dont mind doubling up. Weve only
five rooms available.
The girls slept unt il nearly noon. Then I loosed t hem on t he t own by t hemselves, t elling t hem
I had set up a phot o session wit h t he local Pan Am office. What I did was t o go t hrough t he
London t elephone book unt il I found what I was looking for, a commercial phot ography firm. I
called t he company and ident ified myself as a Pan Am public relat ions represent at ive.
Ive got eight girls at t he Royal Gardens, st ewardesses, and what we need is some color
and black and whit e shot s suit able for advert isement s and promot ion brochures you know,
candid st uff of t he girls at Piccadilly, some of t hem at t he Thames bridges, t hat sort of t hing, I
said. Do you t hink you can handle it ?
Oh, quit e! ent hused t he man t o whom I spoke. Why dont I have one of our boys pop right
over wit h some samples of our work? Im sure we can do business, Mr. Williams.
The firms represent at ive and I had lunch and worked out a deal. Id picked one of t he bet t er
firms in London, it seemed. Theyd even done some work in t he past for Pan Am.
Well, t his is a lit t le different , somet hing new were t rying, I said. One t hing youll like, Im
sure, is t hat youll be paid in cash at t he end of each day. Just give me an invoice for t he
amount .
What about t he proofs? asked t he camera firms rep.
Well, chances are well be long gone t o anot her cit y
weve got a hect ic scheduleso just send t hem t o t he public relat ions and advert ising
depart ment of Pan Am in New York, I said. If t hey decide t o use any of your pict ures, youll be
paid again at your normal commercial rat e for each pict ure select ed.
He whist led and raised his glass of beer. That is a different way of doing t hings, and I like it ,
he said, grinning cont ent edly.
The next morning, a t hree-man camera crew in a passenger van loaded wit h phot ographic
equipment called at t he hot el and picked up my eight fledglings. I didnt go wit h t hem, but
simply t old t he chief cameraman t o use his own judgment and imaginat ion and ret urn t he girls
in a reasonably sober and present able condit ion.
Got cha, guvnor. He laughed and shepherded t he girls int o t he van.
I had business of my own t o conduct . I had embarked on t his illicit odyssey well provisioned
wit h sinful supplies: count erfeit cashiers checks (product s of my own handiwork), Pan Am
expense checks and regular paychecks (Papa Lavaliers unwit t ing art work) and Pan Am
reimbursement aut horizat ion forms (pilfered from Pan Ams own st ores depart ment ), t he last
more for bluff t han effect .
There were a lot of fact ors weighing in my favor. London, and most of t he ot her major cit ies
on out it inerary, was dot t ed wit h branches of major American banks.
The next morning I gat hered t he girls in my room and explained t he hot el policy on airline
crews, t hen spread out eight phony Pan Am expense checks for t hem t o endorse. Each
check, of course, was for much more t han t he hot el bill. Ill need your ID cards, t oo, and while
Im set t ling t he bill, youll all have t o st and in sight of t he cashier, I said. Not one of t hem
quest ioned t he amount of t he check she signed, if any one of t hem bot hered t o not ice.
The scam went off flawlessly. The girls clust ered in a group in t he lobby, in view of t he
cashier, and I present ed t he nine fake checks in payment for our lodging and ot her charges.
The cashier raised t he only quest ion.
Oh, t hese are rat her high, Capt ain, Im not sure I have enough American dollars t o make
change, she said, inspect ing her cash drawer. In fact , I dont . Youre going t o have t o t ake
pounds in change, Im afraid.
I act ed miffed, but accept ed t he decision, knowing t he cashier would probably make a profit ,
or t hought she would. The pounds she gave me, however, were real. The Pan Am checks
werent .
We flew t o Rome t hat aft ernoon, where, over t he next t hree days, t he procedure was
repeat ed. The hot el cashier in Rome, t oo, quest ioned t he amount of t he expense checks, but
was sat isfied wit h my explanat ion.
Well, Im sorry about t hat , I said. But were on an eight een-day t our of It aly, and, of course,
you can give me change in lira if you like.
He liked, since it meant a personal profit of some fift y American dollars for him.
I decided against jaunt ing around Europe by air, not because of t he expense but because it
would have exposed t he girls const ant ly t o ot her airline crews. That was my biggest problem in
implement ing my schemeshielding t he girls from ot her airline people. As I previously point ed
out , airline people like t o t alk shop, especially if t hey work for t he same carrier.
There was, nat urally, some unavoidable cont act wit h ot her flight crews, since t he success of
my check-cashing scam demanded we st ay at hot els which cat ered t o airline personnel. There
was always t he risk t hat one of t he girls, while in uniform, would encount er anot her, act ual, Pan
Am st ewardess, and a disast rous dialogue would ensue.
Act ual st ew: Hi, Im Mary Alice, out of L. A. Where are you based?
My girl: Oh, Im not based anywhere. Im just over here on a P.R. t hing.
Act ual st ew: Youre not a st ewardess?
My girl: Not really. Therere eight of us, and were doing some phot ographic modeling for
promot ion and advert ising purposes.
Act ual st ew (t o herself): Like hell. Ive been wit h Pan Am for five years and I never heard of
any such work. Id bet t er report t his t o t he chief and see if t hese people are for real.
I want ed t o avoid any such scenario, so I would frequent ly reinforce my inst ruct ions t o t he
girls wit h repeat lect ures. Look, when youre out in civilian clot hes and you meet a Pan Am
flight at t endant in uniform, dont say you fly for Pan Am, t oo, because you dont , Id warn t hem.
If youre in uniform and you encount er anot her Pan Am st ewardess, just say youre here on
vacat ion if your st at us is quest ioned. You may feel t hat s being decept ive, and it is, but we
have a reason. We dont want ot her airlines t o find out about t his vent ure, because t heyd
most likely, wit h some just ificat ion, put t he word out in t he indust ry t hat Pan Am isnt using real
st ewardesses in our t ravel ads or promot ional brochures. And we dont really want our line
st ewardesses t o know, as Ive t old you, because it would likely cause dissension. For a working
st ewardess, t his would really be a choice assignment .
The girls cooperat ed splendidly in t hat respect . And I rent ed a comfort able, almost luxurious
Volkswagen bus for our meandering around Europe. At t imes my scheme seemed more like a
leisurely vacat ion t han a felonious vent ure, for we oft en spent days, somet imes a week or
more, in colorful lit t le out -of-t he-way spot s in t his count ry or t hat one and during such det ours I
curbed my crooked act ivit ies. It was not part of my plan t o shaft t he peasant s.
But my scam got back on t he t rack in major cit ies. Before ent ering such a met ropolis, wed
st op and change int o our airline uniforms, and, on our arrival at t he hot el of my choosing, t he
scheme would pick up st eam and begin operat ing again.
Every t wo weeks I paid t he girls wit h a count erfeit payroll check, t hen had t hem endorse t he
checks over t o me in ret urn for cash. Since I was paying all t heir expenses (alt hough each
t hought Pan Am was picking up t he t ab), most of t hem purchased money orders and sent
t hem home t o t heir parent s or t heir bank.
The girls were ent irely guilt less, of course. Not one, during t he summer, ever had an inkling
she was involved in a criminal vent ure. Each t hought she was legit imat ely employed by Pan
Am. They were complet ely duped by my con.
Mine was an idyllic int rigue, but oft en hect ic and t axing. Riding herd on eight lovely, vivacious,
exuberant , energet ic girls is akin t o a cowboy riding herd on a bunch of wild st eers while
mount ed on a lame horsedamned near impossible. I had det ermined at t he out set of t he
scheme t hat t here would be no personal involvement wit h any of t he girls, but my resolve was
endangered a score of t imes during t he course of t he summer. Each of t hem was an
out rageous flirt , and I, of course, was a prince of philanderers, and when one of t he girls was
inclined t o make a sexual advance (and each of t hem did on several occasions), I was hardly
prone t o fend her off. But I always managed.
I did not lead a celibat e life during t he summer. I had ample opport unit ies t o engage in side
liaisons wit h t he girls of what ever localit ies we were frequent ing, and I t ook advant age of each
and every opport unit y.
Monique was not one of t he liaisons. When we visit ed Paris and I sought her out , she
informed me our relat ionship was finished. Ill st ill be your friend, Frank, and I hope youll st ill
help Papa in his business, but I want t o set t le down and you dont , she said. Ive met anot her
man, a pilot for Air France, and were pret t y serious about our fut ure.
I assured her of my underst anding and, in fact , was somewhat relieved. I also affirmed t hat
her fat her would cont inue t o get Pan Am business, alt hough t hat st at ement was a lie. I was
beginning t o feel some guilt concerning my duplicit ous use of Papa Lavalier, and had opt ed t o
release him as a pawn in my scurrilous game. Anyway, hed already provided me wit h enough
supplies t o drain a dozen bank vault s if I used t hem all.
The girls and I ended our t our of Europe in Copenhagen, where I put t hem on a plane for
Arizona. I dispat ched t hem back t o t he St at es wit h t heir arms laden wit h roses and a flowery
speech designed t o allay any suspicions t hat might arise in t heir minds in coming weeks.
Keep your uniforms, keep your ID cards and keep your check st ubs [Id always ret urned a
check st ub when I cashed a check], I inst ruct ed t hem. If t he company want s t he uniforms and
IDs ret urned, youll be cont act ed. As far as employment goes, just ret urn t o school, because
were not going t o hire you on a permanent basis unt il you graduat e, and t hen youll be
cont act ed by a company represent at ive. It probably wont be me, because Ive been ordered
back t o flight dut y. But I hope youll all end up as part of my crew again, for Ive had a wonderful
t ime wit h you t his summer.
I had had a wonderful t ime, all t hings considered. If t he girls put a lot of gray st rands in my
hair, t hey also, unwit t ingly, put a lot of green st uff in my pocket s. Somet hing like $300,000 in all.
The girls did hear from Pan Am, as a mat t er of fact . Aft er t hree mont hs of a st eady st ream of
phot ographs, from dozens of European cit ies and all showing t he same eight girls in Pan Am
st ewardess cost umes, advert ising execut ives of Pan Am launched an invest igat ion. Event ually
t he ent ire mat t er ended up in ORileys hands and he deft ly sort ed it out and put it int o focus
for t he carriers officers and also for t he girls.
I underst and all eight of t hem t ook it gracefully, if wit h some vivid and descript ive language.
I st ayed in Europe for several weeks aft er part ing wit h t he girls, t hen ret urned t o t he St at es,
where I wandered around like a gypsy for several weeks, never st aying in one place for more
t han t wo or t hree days. I was becoming moody again, nervous and edgy, and t he knowledge
t hat I would probably always be a man on t he move, a fox perpet ually hunt ed by t he hounds,
was beginning t o weigh on my conscience, affect ing my conscious life.
I virt ually ceased my check-swindling act ivit ies, fearful t he hounds were close enough and
reluct ant t o creat e addit ional spoor. Only rarely was I challenged t o display my creat ive
criminalit y.
One such t ime was in a large midwest ern cit y. I was sit t ing in t he airport rest aurant aft er
arrival, enjoying lunch, when I became int erest ed in t he conversat ion in t he adjoining boot h, an
exchange bet ween an elderly, st ern-faced man and a very young, servile companion,
apparent ly an employee. I gat hered from t he conversat ion t hat t he older man was a banker, en
rout e t o a convent ion in San Francisco, and from t he remarks he made t o t he young man it
was clear he expect ed his bank t o make money in his absence. He was cool, crust y, arrogant
and obviously proud of his loft y st at us, and when he was paged on t he airport int ercom I
learned his name. Jasper P. Cashman.
That aft ernoon I did some discreet digging int o Jasper P. Cashmans background, ut ilizing a
local newspapers library. J. P. Cashman was a prominent man in his communit y, a self-made
t ycoon. Hed st art ed as a t eller in his bank when t he financial house had asset s of less t han $5
million. He was president now and t he banks asset s exceeded $100 million.
I scout ed t he bank t he following day. It was a new building, st ill boast ing it s expansion mot t o
on t he large front window. The int erior was roomy and pleasing. Tellers on one side, junior
officers scat t ered across an opposit e wall. Senior officers in airy, glassed-in offices. Cashmans
offices on t he t hird floor. J. P. Cashman didnt believe in close cont act wit h t he underlings.
I rent ed a car, drove t o a modest cit y 175 miles dist ant and opened a checking account for
$10,000 wit h a count erfeit cashiers check. Then I ret urned t o Cashmans t own and t he next
day called at his bank. I wasnt really int erest ed in t he money involved in my swindle.
Cashmans manner had irked me, and I simply want ed t o st ing him.
I was t he pict ure of t he affluent businessman when I ent ered t he bank. Gray t hree-piece
suit . Alligat ors, lust er-shined. Count ess Mara t ie. A leat her brief-case, slim and elegant .
Cashmans companion at t he airport was one of t he junior officers. His desk was neat and
t idy. His nameplat e sparkled wit h newness. He obviously was newly promot ed. I dropped int o
t he chair in front of his desk.
Yes, sir, can I help you? he asked, pat ent ly impressed by my dress and bearing.
Yes, you can, as a mat t er of fact , I said easily. Im Robert Leeman from Junct ion, and I need
t o cash a check, a rat her large one. Ive all t he proper ident ificat ion and you can call my bank for
verificat ion, but I dont t hink t hat ll be necessary. J. P. Cashman knows me, and hell verify t he
check. You can call him. No, Ill do it myself, since I need t o t alk t o him anyway.
Before he could react , I reached over, picked up his t elephone and dialed Cashmans correct
ext ension. Cash-mans secret ary answered.
Yes, Mr. Cashman, please. ... He isnt .. . . Oh, yes, he ment ioned t hat last week and it slipped
my mind. Well, list en, would you t ell him when he ret urns t hat Bob Leeman dropped by, and t ell
him Jean and I are looking forward t o seeing him and Mildred in Junct ion for t he hunt . Hell know
what I mean. . . . Yes, t hank you.
I replaced t he t elephone and st ood up, grimacing. Doesnt look like my day, I said ruefully. I
needed t he cash, t oo. I cant get t o Junct ion and back in t ime for t his deal. Well, good day, sir.
I st art ed t o t urn and t he young officer st opped me. Uh, how big is t he check you want ed t o
cash, Mr. Leeman?
Pret t y good sized, I said. I need $7,500. Do you t hink you can t ake care of it ? I can give
you t he number of my bank in Junct ion. Wit hout wait ing for a reply, I dropped back int o t he
chair, briskly wrot e out a check for $7,500 and handed it t o him. As I figured, he didnt call t he
bank in Junct ion. He st ood up and t urned t oward one of t he glassed-in offices. Sir, Ill have t o
have Mr. James, t he vice president , okay t his, which Im sure he will. Ill be back in a moment .
He walked int o Jamess office and said (as I lat er learned) exact ly what Id condit ioned him t o
say. Sir, t heres a Mr. Leeman here from Junct ion and he needs t o cash t his rat her large check.
Hes a personal friend of Mr. Cashman, and he want ed t o see Mr. Cashman, but as you know
Mr. Cashmans in San Francisco.
A personal friend of t he old mans?
Yes, sir, business and social, I underst and.
Cash it . We sure as hell dont want t o irrit at e any of t he old mans associat es.
A minut e lat er t he young officer was handing t he phony check t o a t eller. Cash t his for t he
gent leman, please. Mr. Leeman, Im glad I could help you.
I wasnt t oo well pleased wit h t he Pavlovs-dog swindle. In fact , I didnt enjoy it at all. I left
t own t hat day and several days lat er st opped in a remot e Vermont village t o do some
medit at ing. Mine were gloomy cogit at ions. I was no longer living, I decided, I was merely
surviving. I had accumulat ed a fort une wit h my nefarious impersonat ions, swindles and felonies,
but I wasnt enjoying t he fruit s of my libidinous labors. I concluded it was t ime t o ret ire, t o go t o
eart h like a fox in a remot e and secure lair where I could relax and commence building a new
and crime-free life.
I reviewed t he places I had been on t he at las of my mind. I was mildly ast onished at t he
ext ensiveness of my t ravels, recalling my journeys of t he past few years. I had crisscrossed t he
globe from Singapore t o St ockholm, from Tahit i t o Triest e, from Balt imore t o t he Balt ics, and t o
ot her places I had forgot t en Id visit ed.
But one place I hadnt forgot t en. And it s name kept popping int o my t hought s as I sought a
safe haven. Mont pellier, France.
Mont pellier. That was my safe haven, I finally decided. And having made t he decision, I didnt
give it a second t hought .
I should have.
CHAPTER NINE
Does This Tab Include the Tip?
Quant it at ively, t he vineyards of Bas Languedoc produce more wine t han t he ot her t hree
great French wine depart ment s combined. Qualit at ively, wit h one or t wo except ions, t he wine
of Languedoc has all t he bouquet , body and t ast e of flat root beer. The considerat e host
serves an ordinary Languedoc wine only wit h left over meat loaf, and preferably t o guest s
whom hed rat her not see again.
It is, in t he main, really bad juice.
Fort unat ely for France, t he vint ners, grape pickers, bot t lers and t he vast majorit y of t he rest
of t he populat ion consume t he bulk of Languedocs wines. France export s only it s great wines
from t he vineyards of Burgundy, Bordeaux and Champagne, which are just ly famous for qualit y
and excellence.
I learned all about vinicult ure in Mont pellier. The first t hing I learned was not t o drink t he local
vins du pays.
I was probably t he only wat er drinker in t own. However, I didnt go t o Mont pellier for eit her
t he wine or t he wat er. I was t here t o hide. Permanent ly, I hoped. I had reached t he pinnacle of a
criminal mount ain and t he view wasnt t hat great . Now I want ed an honest valley t o shelt er me
in it s hollow.
I had passed t hrough Mont pellier, driving from Marseille t o Barcelona, during one of my first
bad-check forays t hrough Europe. Out side of t own I had parked beneat h a huge olive t ree and
picnicked on cheese, bread, sausages and soft drinks Id picked up in t he cit y. Close at hand,
pickers swarmed like ant s t hrough a vast grape orchard and far away t he snow-t ipped peaks
of t he Pyrenees glist ened in t he sun. I felt comfort able, at ease, almost happy. As if I were
home.
In a sense, I was. This part of sout hern France was my mot hers nat ive land. She had been
born here and aft er she married my fat her, and following t he breakout of guerrilla warfare in
Algiers, her parent s had ret urned here wit h t heir ot her children. My mat ernal grandparent s,
several uncles and aunt s and a covey of cousins st ill lived wit hin an hours drive of t he olive
t ree. I quelled an impulse t o t urn aside and visit my mot hers people and drove on t o Spain.
I had never forgot t en t hat t ranquil, enjoyable int erlude near Mont pellier. And when, at t he
ripe old age of t went y, I decided t o ret ire from my life as a count erfeit person, dealing in
count erfeit wares, I chose Mont pellier as my ret reat . I was not happy t hat I had t o ret urn t here
behind yet anot her count erfeit ident it y, but I had no choice.
Mont pellier, in many ways, was ideal for my purpose. It was not a t ourist at t ract ion. It was
sit uat ed t oo far inland from t he Medit erranean t o lure t he Riviera set , yet close enough t hat a
seashore out ing was available at t he end of a short drive.
It was large enough (80,000 populat ion) t hat an American t aking up residence would not
excit e undue curiosit y, yet t oo small t o command a major airport or t o ent ice large hot el
operat ors. There were no Hilt ons or Sherat ons in Mont pellier and it s t iny air facilit y served only
light aircraft . The lack of air service or swank hot els weighed in my favor. There was very lit t le
chance of my encount ering a pilot , a st ewardess or a hot el employee who might recognize me.
I present ed myself in Mont pellier as Robert Monjo, a successful aut hor and screenwrit er from
Los Angeles, successful in order t o explain t he sizable account I opened in one of t he local
banks. At t hat , I didnt deposit all t he moneys I t ook wit h me t o Mont pellier. Had I done so, it
might have aroused some curiosit y as t o my act ual livelihood. I ret ained t reble t he amount in
cash, hidden away in my luggage. As a mat t er of fact , t he people of Mont pellier were not prone
t o pry. I was asked only t he necessary and perfunct ory quest ions as I went about t he business
of becoming an expat riat e cit izen of t he t own.
I bought a small cot t age, a charming and gracious lit t le house wit h a t iny back yard shielded
by a high board fence, where t he previous owner had cult ivat ed a minuscule garden. The
operat or of t he st ore where I bought furnishings for t he house lent me t he services of his wife,
a skilled int erior decorat or, in select ing t he proper furnit ure and arranging t he decor. I fixed up
one room as a st udy and library, reinforcing my image as a writ er engaged in research and
lit erary creat ion.
I bought a Renault , one of t he more comfort able models but not luxurious enough t o at t ract
at t ent ion. Wit hin t wo weeks I felt at home, secure and cont ent in my new surroundings.
And if God had short ed t he Medit erranean Languedoc on good grapes, He made up for it in
t he people. They were a st urdy, amiable, court eous and gregarious populace in t he main, quick
t o smile and t o offer any assist ance. The housewives in my neighborhood were always
knocking on my door wit h gift s of past ry, fresh baked bread or a serving from t heir dinner pot s.
My immediat e neighbor, Armand Perigueux, was my favorit e. He was a huge, gnarled man of
sevent y-five and he st ill worked as an overseer in a vineyard, commut ing t o and from work on a
bicycle.
He called t he first t ime bearing t wo bot t les of wine, one red and one whit e. Most of our
wines do not suit American palat es, he said in his booming, yet gent le, voice. But t here are a
few good wines in t he Languedoc, and t hese t wo are among t hem.
I am not a t ast evin, but having drunk of t he good wines I det ermined never t o sample t he
ot hers. But t he people of Mont pellier drank more wine t han any ot her liquid. A lunch or dinner
was not served wit hout wine. I have even seen wine consumed at breakfast .
From Armand I learned t hat God act ually had not hing t o do wit h Languedocs poor record as
a producer of qualit y wines. Nearly one hundred years past , he said, an insect , t he phylloxera,
had ravaged all t he vineyards of France, almost dealing a deat h blow t o t he wine indust ry. I
have heard t hat t his pest was brought t o France at t ached t o t he root s of vines import ed from
America, said Armand. But I do not know t hat t o be t rue.
However, Armand t old me, he did know it t o be t rut h t hat t he great bulk of Frances grape
vines were of American root st ock, immune t o t he wine bug, ont o which French plant s had been
graft ed. And, he said slyly aft er I had gained his confidence, Americans and ot her nat ionals
probably consumed more Languedoc wines t han t hey were aware of.
Almost daily, he informed me, t anker t rucks filled wit h t he cheap wines of t he Languedoc
chugged nort hward t o t he great wine dist rict s, where t heir cargoes were blended wit h t he
choice wines of Burgundy and Bordeaux. It is called st ret ching, like adding wat er t o whiskey,
said Armand. I do not t hink it is honest .
Mont pellier was a good place t o learn about wines, he said. We have t he Wine Universit y of
France right here in our cit y, he said proudly. You can go t here and st udy.
I never visit ed t he universit y. Since I had no t ast e for wine, alt hough I drank it on social
occasions, I had no yen t o acquire a knowledge of wine. I was sat isfied wit h t he bit s and pieces
of informat ion impart ed by Armand. He was a good t eacher. He never gave t est s and he never
graded me.
It was difficult for me t o st ay busy. Loafing is hard work. I spent a lot of t ime driving around. I
would drive t o t he coast and spend a few days exploring t he sand dunes. Or I would drive t o
t he Spanish border and spend hours hiking in t he foot hills of t he Pyrenees. Occasionally I
visit ed Armands vineyard or t he orchard of anot her winegrower. At t he end of t he first mont h, I
drove t o t he small village where my grandparent s lived and spent t hree days wit h t hem. My
grandmot her corresponded regularly wit h my mot her, and she was aware of all t he happenings
at home. I wormed t hem out of her discreet ly, for I did not want her t o know I had exiled myself
from my family. My mot her was well, as were my sist er and brot hers. My fat her was st ill court ing
my mot her, which my grandmot her found amusing. My mot her had apparent ly t old my
grandmot her t hat I was hit chhiking around t he world, seeking a goal and at t empt ing t o
decide my fut ure, and I fost ered t hat impression during my visit .
I did not t ell my grandparent s t hat I was living in Mont pellier. I t old t hem I was on my way t o
Spain, wit h t he t hought in mind of enrolling in one of t he Spanish universit ies. I visit ed t hem a
second t ime during my st ay in Mont pellier. I t old t hem on t hat occasion t hat I hadnt found a
Spanish college t hat challenged me and was ret urning t o It aly t o explore t he universit ies t here.
As I became more sat isfied wit h my life in Mont pellier, I act ually cont emplat ed resuming my
educat ion. Mont pellier is t he seat of one of Frances t went y academic dist rict s and a small but
fine st at e universit y was locat ed in t he cit y. I visit ed t he campus and learned t hat several
courses were available t o foreigners, alt hough none was t aught in English. However, t hat was
no bar t o me, since French was a second t ongue for me, acquired from my mot her.
I also st art ed t hinking about get t ing a job or opening some kind of small business, perhaps a
st at ionery st ore, since I was growing sleek and plump in t he idle, luxurious life I was leading.
Even Armand remarked on my increasing st out ness. There is not much exercise in writ ing, eh,
Robert ? he said, poking me in t he st omach.
Why dont you come t o work for me in t he vineyards, and I will make you lean and t ough. I
declined t he offer. Physical labor is not my fort e. Nor could I force myself t o exercise.
I was st ill mulling t he t hought of regist ering at t he universit y, and t he idea of finding some
useful employment , when bot h issues were rendered moot . Four mont hs aft er t aking up
residence in Mont pellier, I learned a bit t er t rut h: when t he hounds have help, t here is no safe
place for a fox t o hide.
I shopped regularly at a small (by American st andards) market on t he out skirt s of Mont pellier,
a grocery Armand had recommended. I went t o t he st ore t wice weekly t o supply my larder, or
whenever I needed somet hing. This occasion was one of my scheduled shopping t rips and t he
st ore clerk was sacking my groceries when I remembered I needed milk. I t old t he boy t o set my
foodst uffs aside (t here were ot hers in line) and st rolled t o t he back ot t he st ore for t he milk.
Ret urning t o t he check-out count er, I walked around a shelf of canned goods and saw four
men at t he checkers st and, now devoid of cust omers and clerk.
One had a shot gun, anot her had what appeared t o be a short -barreled machine gun and
t he ot her t wo had pist ols. My first t hought was t hat bandit s were robbing t he st ore and t hat
t he employees and cust omers were on t he floor.
But as I wheeled t o seek cover behind t he shelves, one of t he men shout ed, Abagnale!
I ducked behind t he shelves only t o be confront ed by t hree uniformed gendarmes, all
point ing pist ols at me. They came at me from all sides t hen, men in uniform, men in plainclot hes
and all point ing a pist ol, shot gun, machine gun or rifle at me. Orders cracked around my ears
like whip pops.
Hands up!
Hands on your head!
Up against t he shelves, spread-eagle!
Face down on t he floor!
I had my hands up. I didnt know which of t he ot her commands t o obey, but I sure as hell
didnt want t o be shot . And some of t he officers were handling t heir weapons in a manner t hat
scared me. As a mat t er of fact , t hey were scaring t heir fellow officers.
For Gods sake, dont shoot , I shout ed. One of you t ell me what you want me t o do and Ill
do it .
A t all, lean man wit h aust ere feat ures point ed his pist ol at me. Get on t he floor, facedown!
he barked. I did as he inst ruct ed, helped by several less-t han-gent le hands. Rough hands
t wist ed my arms up behind my back and ot her uncaring hands clamped st eel circlet s t ight ly
around my wrist s.
I was t hen hauled unceremoniously t o my feet and, surrounded by Suret e det ect ives,
Int erpol agent s, gendarmes and God knows what ot her kind of fuzz, I was hust led out of t he
st ore and rudely shoved int o t he back seat of an unmarked sedan. I cant say French police are
brut al, but I will say t hey handle suspect s wit h undue firmness. I was driven direct ly t o t he
Mont pellier police st at ion. No one said a word en rout e.
At t he st at ion, t he aust ere det ect ive and t wo ot her officers, also Suret e agent s, ushered me
int o a small room. French policemen have a wide lat it ude in t he handling of criminals, especially
in int errogat ions of suspect s. They get right t o t he point , dispensing wit h t he reading of any
right s a criminal may have. I dont t hink a crook has any right s in France.
My name is Marcel Gast on, of t he Suret e!, said t he lean officer in curt t ones. You are
Frank Abagnale, are you not ?
Im Robert Monjo, I said in indignant t ones. Im a writ er from California, an American. Im
afraid you gent lemen have made a very serious mist ake.
Gast on slapped me, a sharp, st inging blow. Most of t he mist akes I make, monsieur, are
serious mist akes, but I have not made a mist ake in t his inst ance. You are Frank Abagnale.
I am Robert Monjo, I said doggedly, searching t heir faces for a hint of doubt .
One of t he ot her Suret y agent s st epped forward, his hand balled int o a fist , but Gast on put
out an arm and st opped him, wit hout releasing me from his fixed st are. Then he shrugged.
We could beat it out of you, but t hat isnt necessary, he said. I have all t he t ime in t he
world, Abagnale, but I dont int end t o wast e t oo much of it on you. We can hold you unt il
doomsday, or at least unt il we have locat ed wit nesses t o ident ify you. Unt il t hen, unless you
choose t o cooperat e, I am going t o place you in t he cell for common drunks and pet t y criminals.
You can st ay t here for a week, t wo weeks, a mont h, it makes no difference t o me. However,
you will not be fed and you will have no wat er unt il you decide t o confess. Why dont you just
t ell us what we want t o know right now? We know who you are. We know what you have
done. You will only inconvenience yourself.
One ot her t hing, Abagnale. If you force us t o go t o a lot of t rouble t o get t he informat ion you
could give us at t his moment , I will not forget it . And you will always remember t he
consequences, I promise you.
I looked at Gast on and knew he meant every word he had spoken. Marcel Gast on was one
t ough bast ard.
Im Frank Abagnale, I said.
I never really gave t hem t he kind of confession t hey want ed. I never volunt eered any det ails
on any of t he offenses Id commit t ed in France. But if t hey knew of a part icular caper and
out lined it for me, Id nod and say, That s about t he way it happened, all right , or, Yes, t hat
was me.
Gast on made up a document , set t ing down a lot of my crimes, t he circumst ances of my
arrest and my int errogat ion, and let me read it . If t hat is essent ially correct , you will help
yourself by signing it , he said.
I couldnt quarrel wit h t he inst rument . Hed even included t he fact t hat hed slapped me. I
signed it .
The affidavit also disclosed how Id been caught . Major airlines didnt serve Mont pellier, but it
was visit ed frequent ly by st ewardesses and ot her flight personnel. An Air France flight
at t endant , visit ing relat ives in Mont pellier, had spot t ed me shopping a couple of weeks past
and had recognized me. She had seen me get int o my car and had jot t ed down t he license
number. On her ret urn t o Paris, she had sought out her capt ain and t old him of her suspicions.
She was posit ive enough about her ident ificat ion t hat her capt ain called t he police.
Im posit ive it s him. I dat ed him, she insist ed.
I never learned which Air France st ewardess put t he finger on me. No one would t ell me. I had
dallied wit h several, over t he years. I hoped it wasnt Monique, but t o t his day I st ill dont know
t he informant s ident it y. I dont t hink it was Monique, however. Had she seen me in Mont pellier,
she would have confront ed me.
I was kept six days in Mont pellier, during which t ime several lawyers appeared t o offer t heir
services. I select ed a middle-aged man whose mannerisms and appearance reminded me of
Armand, alt hough he frankly st at ed he didnt t hink he could win me my freedom. I have gone
over all t he police document s, and t hey have you dead t o right s, he comment ed. The best we
can hope for is a light sent ence.
I t old him Id set t le for t hat .
Scarcely a week aft er my arrest , t o my ast onishment , I was removed t o Perpignan and t he
day aft er my arrival t here I was brought t o t rial in a court of assizes, made up of a judge, t wo
assessors (prosecut ors) and nine cit izen jurors, all of whom would joint ly decide my guilt or
innocence.
It wasnt much of a t rial, really, last ing less t han t wo days. Gast on list ed t he charges against
me and t he evidence hed gat hered t o support t he accusat ions. There were ample wit nesses
available t o appear against me.
How does t he defendant plead? inquired t he judge of my at t orney.
My client will offer no defense against t hese charges, replied t he lawyer. In t he int erest of
t ime, we would like t o sum up our posit ion now.
He t hen launched int o an eloquent and impassioned plea for leniency in my behalf. He cit ed
my yout hI was st ill not t went y-oneand port rayed me as an unfort unat e and confused
young man, t he product of a broken home and st ill more of a delinquent t han a criminal. He
point ed out t hat a dozen ot her European nat ions where I had perpet rat ed similar crimes had
placed formal demands for ext radit ion, once my debt t o France was paid.
This young man will, in all probabilit y, never see his nat ive land for many, many years, and
even when he does ret urn home, he will ret urn in chains and only t o face prison t here, argued
t he lawyer. I need not point out t o t his court t he harshness of t he prison life t his young man
will have t o endure here. I ask t he court t o t ake t hat int o account in set t ing a penalt y.
I was adjudged guilt y. But at t he t ime I t hought jubilant ly t hat my at t orney, if hed lost a
bat t le, had won t he war. The judge sent enced me t o only one year in prison.
I was remanded t o Perpignans prison, t he House of Arrest , a gloomy, forbidding st one
fort ress const ruct ed in t he sevent eent h cent ury, and not unt il I had been t here for a few days
did I realize just how lenient t he judge had been.
I was received by t wo guards who brusquely ordered me t o st rip and who t hen escort ed me,
st ill naked, t o an upper floor where I was marched down a narrow corridor devoid of cells as
such. On eit her side were only st one walls set wit h solid st eel doors. The guards halt ed before
one of t he met al port als and one unlocked and opened t he door. It screeched open wit h a
sound reminiscent of a horror movie, and t he ot her guard shoved me inside t he dark cubicle. I
st umbled and fell forward, st riking my head against t he back of t he cell, for t he cell was a
sunken one. I had not not ed t he t wo st eps leading t o t he floor. I was never act ually t o see t he
st eps.
I was in t ot al darkness. A damp, chilling, breat h-st ifling, fright ening darkness. I st ood up t o
grope around for t he light swit ch and cracked my head against t he st eel ceiling.
There was no light swit ch. There was no light in t he cell. There was, in fact , not hing in t he
cell but a bucket . No bed, no t oilet , no wash basin, no drain, not hing. Just t he bucket . The cell
was not a cell, act ually, it was a hole, a raised dungeon perhaps five feet wide, five feet high
and five feet deep, wit h a ceiling and door of st eel and a floor and walls of st one. The ceiling
and door were chill t o t he t ouch. The walls wept chilly t ears const ant ly.
I wait ed for my eyes t o adjust t o t he darkness. No light filt ered int o t he cell from any source.
There were no cracks in t he overhead or walls. The ancient door t o my st eel and st one box
seemed t o blend it self int o it s apert ure like a hermet ic seal. My eyes did not adjust . The eyes
do not adjust t o t ot al darkness.
There was air ent ering t he cell. Periodically a cold draft explored my skin like clammy fingers,
raising goose bumps as much from t he eerie sensat ion as from t he chill. I wondered whence it
came. What ever it s channels, t hey also were dark.
I slumped on t he floor, shivering and feeling like Id been ent ombed alive. Panic added t o my
shaking. I sought t o calm myself by rat ionalizing my sit uat ion. Surely, I t old myself, t his was not
t o be t he cell I would occupy during t he ent ire year. Probably I was in here for observat ion. I
discarded t he t heory immediat ely. Anyone observing me in t his cell would have t o have X-ray
eyes. All right , t hen, I was being given a t ast e of what could happen t o me if I misbehaved. I
clung t o t he second supposit ion. Yes, t his t reat ment was calculat ed t o ensure my good
behavior once I was released among t he general prison populat ion. Aft er all, only unruly
prisoners were confined in solit ary under such harsh condit ions, werent t hey? Cert ainly no
civilized count ry would permit such cruel and inhumane punishment t o be met ed out by it s
prison warders wit hout cause.
France does. Or did.
I was not fed my first day in Perpignans prison. I had been placed in my grim cell lat e in t he
aft ernoon. Several hours lat er, exhaust ed, cold, hungry, bewildered, fright ened and desolat e, I
laid down on t he hard floor and fell asleep. I slept curled in a ball, for I am six feet t all.
The screeching of t he door awakened me. I sat up, wincing from t he soreness and cramps
caused by my uncomfort able sleeping posit ion. The dim form of a guard loomed in t he
doorway. He was placing somet hing on t he st eps inside my crypt . I was galvanized int o act ion
as he st raight ened and st art ed t o close t he door.
Wait ! Wait ! I shout ed, scrambling forward and placing my hands against t he inside of t he
door, t rying t o rest rain it s closing.
Why am I being kept in here? How long will I st ay in here?
Unt il you have complet ed your sent ence, he said, and shoved shut t he door. The words
clanked on my ears wit h t he met allic finalness of t he door slamming against t he st one jamb.
I fell back, st unned by t he ghast ly t rut h. A year? I was t o live in t his black coffin a year?
Wit hout light ? Wit hout bedding? Wit hout clot hing? Wit hout t oilet facilit ies? And wit hout God
knows what else? It was impossible, I t old myself. No man could live in such a dark void, under
such condit ions, for a year. He would die, and his deat h would be slow and t ort urous. It would
have been bet t er had I been sent enced t o t he guillot ine. I loved France. But what kind of
count ry was it t hat count enanced such punishment for such a crime as mine? And if t he
government was ignorant of such prison condit ions, t he people unknowing, what manner of
men were t he French penologist s, int o whose hands I had been delivered? Depraved monst ers,
madmen, pervert s, undoubt edly.
I was suddenly scared, act ually fearful. I did not know how, or if, I could survive a year in t his
St ygian vault . I st ill have night mares from my st ay in Perpignans House of Arrest . Compared t o
Perpignan prison, t he Black Hole of Calcut t a was a healt h spa, Devils Island a vacat ion
paradise.
I had not expect ed prison life t o be easy. My one experience behind bars, and t hen for only a
few hours, had convinced me t hat jails and prisons were not nice places t o reside. But not hing I
had ever read, heard or seen had ever indicat ed t hat imprisonment could be as brut al and
heart less as t his.
I felt around and locat ed t he food t he guard had broughc. It was a quart cont ainer of wat er
and a small loaf of bread. The simple breakfast had not even been brought on a t ray. The
guard had simply set t he cont ainer of wat er on t he t op st ep and had dropped t he bread beside
it on t he st one. No mat t er, I wolfed down t he loaf of bread and gulped down t he wat er in one
swig. Then I huddled miserably against t he wet granit e wall and cont emplat ed t he
machinat ions of French Just ice.
Mine was not a t erm in prison, it was an ordeal designed t o dest roy t he mind and body.
The menu in Perpignan prison never varied. For breakfast , I was served bread and wat er.
Lunch consist ed of a weak chicken soup and a loaf of bread. Supper was a cup of black coffee
and a loaf of bread. The monot onous diet varied only in t he t ime it was served or in t he order it
was served. I had no means of t elling t ime and I soon lost t rack of t he days, and t he guards
who served t he meals furt her confused my at t empt s t o keep a ment al t imet able and calendar
by alt ernat ing t he schedule of my meager rat ions. For inst ance, for several days breakfast ,
lunch and dinner might be served regularly at seven, noon and five, but t hen, abrupt ly, dinner
would be served at t en A.M., supper at 2 P.M. and breakfast at 6 P.M. I am est imat ing t he t imes.
I really never knew at what hour I was fed, or whet her it was day or night . And not infrequent ly I
was fed only one or t wo t imes daily. Occasionally I wasnt fed at all during t he span of t he day.
I never left t he cell. Not once during my st ay in t he hoary jail was I permit t ed out side for
exercise or recreat ion. If t he prison had a day room where prisoners might read, writ e let t ers,
list en t o t he radio, wat ch t elevision or play games, I was not among t hose privileged t o share
t he facilit y. I was not allowed t o writ e let t ers, and if any of my relat ives knew I was jailed at
Perpignan and wrot e me, I did not receive t he mail. My request s, made of t he guards who
served t he meals, t o cont act my relat ives, my at t orney, t he Red Cross, t he warden or t he
American consular aut horit ies were ignored save once.
On t hat occasion, t he guard smacked me alongside t he head wit h his huge hand. Dont t alk
t o me, he growled. It is not permit t ed. Dont t alk, dont sing, dont whist le, dont hum, dont
make any sound or you will be beat en. He slammed t he heavy door shut on furt her pleas.
The bucket was my lat rine. I was not given any t oilet paper, nor was t he bucket removed
aft er use. I soon adapt ed t o t he st ench, but aft er a few days t he bucket overflowed and I had
t o move around and sleep in my own fecal mat t er. I was t oo numbed, in body and spirit , t o be
revolt ed. Event ually, however, t he odor became t oo nauseat ing for even t he guards t o endure,
apparent ly. One day, bet ween meals, t he door creaked open and anot her convict scurried in
wit h t he furt iveness and manner of a rat , grabbed t he bucket and fled. It was ret urned, empt y,
a few minut es lat er. On perhaps half a dozen ot her occasions during my t ime in t he t iny t omb,
t he procedure was repeat ed. But only t wice during my imprisonment were t he feces cleaned
from t he floor of t he cell. Each t ime a guard st ood by at t he door while an inmat e hosed out t he
cell and t hen picked up t he accumulat ed wat er in t he hole wit h a mop. Bot h t imes I managed a
makeshift shower in t he spray of t he hose, daring t he wrat h of t he guard. Bot h t imes t he
cleaning was performed in absolut e silence.
Those were t he only t imes I was able t o cleanse myself t o any ext ent during my t erm,
alt hough occasionally I used a port ion of my wat er rat ion t o rinse my hands or t o anoint my
face.
I was not allowed t o shave nor was I ever given a haircut . I am hirsut e by herit age, and
wit hout t he means t o curb t heir growt h, my hair and beard sprout ed prodigiously. My hair was
soon below my shoulders, a t angled, sodden skein, and my beard brushed my chest . Bot h hair
and beard were oiled and perfumed wit h excrement , for I could not avoid soiling myself in my
own wast es.
Lice and ot her insect s small enough t o gain admit t ance t o t he fet id cell nest ed in my body
hair and feast ed on my flesh. I developed sores from my scrat ching and t hese became infect ed
from cont act wit h t he always present filt h. My body soon became a mass of scabs, a living pet ri
dish for t he cult ure of myriad forms of bact eria. In t he cramped confines of t he hole, shrouded
in blackness, I lost my sense of balance and fell oft en as I at t empt ed t o move about , st ret ch
myself or perform simple exercises, nicking or bruising myself against t he rough walls or t he
hard floor and furt her adding t o my wounds.
I weighed 210 pounds when I was received at Perpignan. The t edious diet did not cont ain
enough nut rient s or calories t o maint ain me. My body began t o feed upon it self, t he muscles
and t endons devouring t he st ored fat s and oily t issues in order t o fuel t he pumps of my heart
and my circulat ory syst em. Wit hin weeks I was able t o encircle my biceps wit h my fingers.
I was not alone in my misery. I soon concluded t hat most if not all of t he st eel doors in
Perpignan prison sealed a wret ched inmat e.
The st one walls bet ween t he cells were t oo t hick t o permit t alk bet ween adjoining prisoners,
but t hey were by no means soundproof. Unint elligible shout s and curses, screams of pain and
anguish, and muffled groans and cries washed soft ly along t he corridor out side almost
const ant ly, somet imes ceasing abrupt ly only t o st art again wit hin minut es. The sounds, always
laden wit h despair, permeat ed t he walls of my dank box, filt ering t hrough t he st one and
seeping up from t he floor like t he sighs and sobs of some beleaguered banshee. Somet imes,
however, t he sounds had t he qualit ies of rage and anger, reminiscent of t he dist ant howl of a
hunt ing wolf or t he defiant yipping of a hurt coyot e.
Somet imes t he sounds were my own, for in my loneliness I oft en t alked t o myself just t o hear
t he sound of a human voice. Or I would st and st ooped before t he door and scream at t he
guards t o let me out or demand t hat I be t reat ed like a human being, wit h dignit y and
considerat ion if not respect . I cursed t hem. I cursed myself. I rant ed and raved, wept and
screamed, chant ed and sang, laughed and bellowed, shout ed and banged t he bucket against
t he walls, splat t ering excrement all over my crat e-like cell. I felt I was going mad.
I had no doubt t hat many of t he men in Perpignan were mad, reduced t o lunacy by t he
maniacal manner in which t hey were t reat ed. I was cert ain aft er a few weeks t hat I would lose
my own sanit y. I lost t he abilit y t o dist inguish bet ween t hat which was real and t hat which was
unreal, and began t o hallucinat e. I would find myself back in t he Royal Gardens, surrounded by
my lovely crew, dining sumpt uously on lobst er or roast beef, or st rolling along t he golden
beaches of t he Cost a Brava, my arm around Monique. Only t o regain my reason in t he damp
dungeon t hat was realit y, wallowing in my own excret a and cursing t he fat es t hat had
condemned me t o Perpignan.
I t hink t hat I act ually would have gone mad and died a lunat ic in Perpignan prison had it not
been for my vivid imaginat ion. The creat ive abilit y t hat had enabled me t o concoct t he brilliant
swindles Id perpet rat ed over t he years, and which had result ed in my present plight , now
served as a lifeguard.
If I were going t o hallucinat e, I det ermined, mine would be planned hallucinat ions, and so I
began t o produce my own fant asies. I would sit on t he floor, for inst ance, and recall t he image I
present ed in my airline uniform and pret end t hat I was a real pilot , commander of a 707. And
suddenly t he cramped, vile and oozy pit in which I was prisoner became a sleek, clean jet liner,
crowded wit h joyful, excit ed passengers at t ended by chic, glamorous st ewardesses. I
employed all t he airline jargon Id acquired over t he years as I pret ended t o t axi t he plane away
from t he t erminal, obt ain t akeoff clearance from t he t ower and jockey t he great machine int o
t he air, leveling off at 35,000 feet .
Then Id pick up t he PA mike. Ladies and gent lemen, t his is your capt ain speaking. Welcome
aboard Flight 572 of Abagnale Airlines, Seat t le t o Denver. Were present ly cruising at miles per
hour and we expect good weat her, and t hus a good flight , all t he way t o Denver. Those of you
seat ed on t he st arboard sidet hat s t he right side of t he aircraft should have a good view of
Mount Rainier below and off in t he dist ance. Mount Rainier, wit h an elevat ion of 14,410 feet , is,
as you probably know, t he highest peak in Washingt on St at e ...
Of course I was a hero at t imes, fight ing my huge plane t hrough t errible st orms or
overcoming dire mechanical disast ers t o deliver my human cargo safely and t o bask in t he
grat it ude of t he passengers. Especially t he women. Especially t he pret t y women.
Or I would imagine I was a t our bus driver, displaying t he splendors of t he Grand Canyon or
t he enchant ment s of San Ant onio, New Orleans, Rome, New York Cit y (I act ually remembered
t hat New York Cit y had enchant ment s) or some ot her hist oric cit y t o a group of rapt t ourist s,
ent ert aining t hem wit h my rapid, wit t y spiel. Now, t he mansion on your left , ladies and
gent lemen, is t he home of J. P. Greenst uff, one of t he cit ys founders. He made big money most
of his life. Trouble is, he made it t oo big, and now hes spending t he rest of his life in a federal
prison.
In my fant asies, I was anyone I want ed t o be, much as Id been during t he five years before
my arrest , alt hough I added t o and amplified my Perpignan impersonat ions. I was a famous
surgeon, operat ing on t he President and saving his life wit h my medical skills. A great aut hor,
winning t he Nobel Prize for lit erat ure. A movie direct or, making an Oscar-winning epic. A
mount ain guide, rescuing hapless climbers t rapped on a dangerous mount ain face. I was t inker,
t ailor, Indian chief, baker, banker and ingenious t hief. For I somet imes rest aged some of my
more memorable capers. And some of my more memorable love scenes t oo.
But always t he curt ain had t o come down on my plays, and I ret urned t o realit y, but knowing
Id been on a make-believe journey, in my chill, gloomy, dark and loat hsome cell.
Walt er Mit t y in durance vile.
One day t he door grat ed open at an unexpect ed t ime and a guard t ossed somet hing int o
my cell. It was a t hin, dirt y, evil-smelling mat t ress, hardly more t han a t ick, but I spread it out on
t he floor and curled up on it , reveling in it s comfort . I fell asleep wondering what model
deport ment I had exhibit ed t hat deserved such a luxurious reward.
I was awakened by t he mat t resss being jerked savagely from beneat h me by a burly guard,
who laughed jeeringly as he slammed t he st eel door shut . I do not know what t ime it was. It
was long before I was served breakfast , however. Somet ime aft er dinner, t he door shrieked
open again and t he mat t ress was dumped on t he st eps. I grabbed it and fell on it s soft ness,
fondling it like it was a woman. But again I was rudely awakened by a guards removing t he t ick
forcefully from under me. And yet again, at some unknown hour lat er, t he mat t ress was
plopped ont o t he st eps. The t rut h dawned. The guards were playing a game wit h me, a cruel
and barbaric game, but a game nonet heless. Some of t heir ot her mice have died, I t old myself,
and I ignored t he bedding. My body had become accust omed t o t he smoot h st one floor, or at
least as accust omed t o it as any blending of soft flesh and hard rock. I never used t he t ick
again, alt hough t he guards cont inued providing it each night , in hopes, I supposed, t hat I would
again use it and furnish t hem more sport .
In my fift h mont h in Perpignans House of Arrest (a fact est ablished lat er) t here was a t ap on
t he out side of my cell door and t hen a port ion of it slid open, admit t ing a weak, filt ered light . I
was ast onished, for I had been unaware t he door had a sliding panel, so cunningly was it
cont rived.
Frank Abagnale? asked a voice unmist akably American.
I floundered t o t he door and peered out . St anding on t he out er side of t he corridor, where he
had recoiled from t he st ench, was a t all, skinny man wit h an equally bony face, in t he act of
put t ing a handkerchief over his mout h and nost rils.
Im Frank Abagnale, I said eagerly. Are you an American? Are you wit h t he FBI?
Im Pet er Ramsey, and Im from t he American Consulat e in Marseille, replied t he t hin man,
removing t he handkerchief from his face. How are you doing?
I st ared at him, ast onished. My God, he act ed like we were t alking over a glass of wine in
some Marseille sidewalk cafe. Words suddenly st art ed cascading from my mout h like gravel
from a sluice.
How am I doing? I repeat ed his query in near hyst erical t ones. Ill t ell you how Im doing. Im
sick, Im sore, Im naked, Im hungry and Im covered wit h lice. I dont have a bed. I dont have a
t oilet . I dont have a wash basin. Im sleeping in my own shit . I have no light , no razor, no
t oot hbrush, no not hing. I dont know what t ime it is. I dont know what day it is. I dont know
what mont h it is. I dont even know what year it is, for Christ s sake. . . . Im being t reat ed like a
mad dog. Ill probably go mad if I st ay in here much longer. Im dying in here. That s how Im
doing!
I slumped against t he door, exhaust ed from my t irade.
Ramseys feat ures, save for an obvious react ion t o t he odor emanat ing from my cell, did not
change. He nodded impassively when I finished.
I see, he said calmly. Well, perhaps I should explain my visit . You see, I make t he rounds of
my dist rict about t wice a year, calling on Americans in t his dist rict , and I learned only recent ly
t hat you were here. Now, before you get your hopes up, let me t ell you now t hat I am
powerless t o assist you. ... I am aware of t he condit ions here and of t he way youre being
t reat ed.
And it s precisely because of t hat t reat ment t hat I cant do anyt hing. You see, Abagnale,
youre being t reat ed exact ly t he same as every Frenchman whos confined here is t reat ed.
Theyre not doing anyt hing t o you t hat t heyre not doing t o t he man on eit her side of you, t o
t he man in each cell in t he prison, in fact . Each of t hem has t he same accommodat ion as you.
Each is living in t he same filt h. Each is eat ing t he same food. Each is denied t he privileges
youre denied.
You havent been singled out for especially harsh t reat ment , Abagnale. And as long as t hey
t reat you as t hey t reat t heir own, I cant do a damn t hing about your predicament , not even
complain.
The minut e t hey discriminat e against you, or t reat you different ly because youre an
American, a foreigner, t hen I can st ep in and complain. It may not do any good, but I could, t hen,
int ervene in your behalf.
But as long as t hey met e out t he same punishment t o you as t hey do t o t heir own, t hat s it .
French prisons are French prisons. It s always been like t his, t o my knowledge, and it ll always
be like t his. They dont believe in rehabilit at ion. They believe in an eye for an eye, a t oot h for a
t oot h. In short , t hey believe in punishment for a convict ed criminal and youre a convict ed
criminal. Youre lucky, really. It used t o be worse t han t his, if you can believe it . Prisoners were
once beat en daily. As long as youre not being specifically abused by someone, t heres not hing
I can do.
His words fell on my ears like whip st rokes across my back. I felt like a deat h sent ence had
been pronounced on me. Then Ramsey, wit h t he ghost of a grin, handed me a reprieve.
It is my underst anding t hat you only have anot her t hirt y days or so here, he said. You
wont be freed, of course. I am t old t hat aut horit ies from anot her count ry, which one I dont
know, are coming t o t ake you int o cust ody for t rial in t hat count ry. Wherever you go, youre
bound t o be t reat ed bet t er t han t his. Now, if youd like me t o writ e your parent s and let t hem
know where you are, or if you want me t o get in t ouch wit h anyone else, Ill be glad t o do so.
His was a generous gest ure, one he didnt have t o make, and I was t empt ed, but only
moment arily. No, t hat wont be necessary, I said. Thank you, anyway, Mr. Ramsey.
He nodded again. Good luck t o you, Abagnale, he said. He t urned and seemed t o disappear
in a radiant explosion. I jumped back, shielding my eyes and screaming wit h pain. It was only
lat er t hat I knew what had happened. The light s in t he corridor were variable power light s.
When a cell door was opened or a peephole broached, t he light s were dimmed, low enough t o
avoid damage t o t he eyes of t he prisoner who lived like a mole in his light less hole. When a
visit or like Ramsey appeared, t he light s were t urned up, so he might see his way. Once he
halt ed in front of my cell, t he light s had been dimmed. When he left , a guard had hit t he bright
swit ch premat urely. A concern for t heir sight was t he only considerat ion accorded prisoners in
Perpignans House of Arrest .
Aft er Ramsey left , I sat down against t he wall and, aft er t he pain in my eyes had subsided,
mulled t he informat ion hed impart ed. Was my sent ence nearly over? Had it really been eleven
mont hs since I was shoved int o t his awful crypt ? I didnt know, I had lost all sense of t ime, but I
felt he had t old me t he t rut h.
I t ried t o keep count of t he days t hereaft er, t o t ally t hirt y days on t he almanac of my mind
but it was impossible. You simply cant keep a calendar in a feculent vacuum, void of light ,
where any segment of t ime, if such exist ed, was devot ed t o surviving. I am sure it was only a
few days before I ret urned t o just holding on t o my sanit y.
St ill, t ime passed. And one day t he panel in t he door opened, admit t ing t he dim light t hat ,
wit h t he one except ion, was t he only light I knew.
Turn around, face t he back of your cell and shut your eyes, a voice ordered gruffly. I did as
inst ruct ed, my heart hammering. Was t his t he day of my release? Or was somet hing else in
st ore for me.
Do not t urn around, but open your eyes slowly and let t hem get accust omed t o t he light ,
t he voice inst ruct ed. I will leave t his open for an hour, t hen Ill be back.
I slowly opened my eyes and found myself surrounded by a bright , golden glow, t oo bright for
my weak orbs. I had t o shut t hem against t he glare. Gradually, however, my pupils adjust ed t o
t he illuminat ion and I was able t o look around me wit hout squint ing and wit hout pain. Even so,
t he cell was st ill gloomy, like t wilight on a rainy day. An hour lat er t he guard ret urned, or at least
t he voice sounded t he same.
Close your eyes again, he inst ruct ed. I am going t o t urn up t he light s furt her. I did so, and
when he inst ruct ed me t o do so, I opened my eyes slowly and caut iously. The t iny cubicle was
flooded wit h a luminous glare, causing me t o squint again. The radiance ringed t he cell like a
nimbus around a dark st ar, illuminat ing fully for t he first t ime t he int erior of t he t iny vault . I was
appalled and sickened as I looked around. The walls were moist and crust ed wit h slimy mold.
The ceiling, t oo, glist ened wit h moist ure. The floor was filt hy wit h excrement , and t he bucket ,
unempt ied for some t ime, t eemed wit h maggot s. The odious worms were also slit hering around
t he floor.
I vomit ed.
It was perhaps anot her hour before t he guard ret urned. This t ime he opened t he door.
Come wit h me, he ordered. I scrambled from t he foul cave wit hout hesit at ion, experiencing
shoot ing pains in my neck, shoulders, arms and legs as I st raight ened up for t he first t ime since
my arrival. I had difficult y walking, but I waddled aft er t he guard like a half-drunk duck,
somet imes st eadying myself by put t ing a hand against t he wall.
He led me downst airs and int o a sparsely furnished room.
St and here, he ordered, and disappeared t hrough an open door t hat led t o anot her
chamber. I t urned, inspect ing t he room, marveling at it s size and spaciousness aft er so long in
my moldy burrow, and t hen st opped as I suddenly confront ed t he most hideous creat ure I had
ever encount ered.
It was a man. It had t o be a man, but God in heaven, what manner of man was t his? He was
t all and emaciat ed, his head crowned by a dirt y, unkempt t hat ch of hair t hat spilled t o his waist ,
his face hidden by a filt hy, mat t ed beard t hat fell t o his belly. Spit t le drooled from t he slash t hat
was his mout h, and his eyes were wildly glowing coals in t heir sunken socket s. He was naked
and his flesh was coat ed wit h filt h, sores and scabs, lending it a leprous appearance. The nails
of his fingers and t oes were grown out , elongat ed and curved like t he t alons of a vult ure.
Indeed, he looked like a vult ure. I shuddered as I regarded t he apparit ion. I shuddered again as
recognit ion loomed.
I was facing myself in a mirror.
I was st ill horrified at my appearance when t he guard ret urned, clot hing draped over his arm
and a pair of shoes in his hand.
I recognized t he apparel as mine, t he clot hes I was wearing when I was received in t he
prison. Put t hese on, said t he guard brusquely, handing me t he garment s and dropping t he
shoes on t he floor. Cant I shower and shave first , please? I asked.
No, put on t he clot hes, he said, giving me a malevolent look. I hurriedly garbed my filt hy
frame in t he clot hes, which were now several sizes t oo large for me. My belt was missing. I
clut ched t he t rousers around my wast ed st omach and looked at t he guard. He st epped int o
t he next room and ret urned wit h a lengt h of cot t on rope. I cinched t he waist of my t rousers
wit h t hat .
Almost immediat ely t wo gendarmes appeared, one of t hem carrying an array of rest raint s.
One of t hem cinched a t hick leat her belt wit h a ringbolt in t he front around my waist while t he
ot her fast ened heavy shackles around my ankles. I was t hen handcuffed and a long, slender
st eel chain was looped around my neck and t he handcuff chain, t hreaded t hrough t he ringbolt
and fast ened wit h a lock t o t he chain connect ing my leg irons. Neit her officer said a word as
t hey t russed me. One t hen point ed t oward t he door and gave me a light shove as his part ner
led t he way t hrough t he exit .
I shuffled aft er him, unable t o walk because of t he leg irons and fearful of my dest inat ion. I
had never been chained like t his before. I considered such rest raint s only for violent , dangerous
criminals.
Where are we going, where are you t aking me? I asked, squint ing in t he lat e aft ernoon
sunlight . It was even more brilliant t han t he light s inside. Neit her of t hem bot hered t o answer
me.
Silent ly, t hey placed me in t he back seat of an unmarked sedan and one climbed behind t he
wheel as t he ot her seat ed himself beside me.
They drove me t o t he railroad st at ion. The aft ernoon light , even shelt ered as I was in t he car,
made me dizzy and nauseous. The nausea was not all due t o my sudden exposure t o daylight
aft er all t hese mont hs, I knew. Id been illfeverish, vomit ing, diarrhea and racked at t imes by
chillsfor t he past mont h or so. I had not complained t o t he guards in Perpignan. They would
have ignored me, as t hey had ignored all my ot her pleas and prot est s.
At t he railroad st at ion I was t aken from t he car and one of t he gendarmes snapped one end
of a light chain ont o my belt . He wrapped t he ot her end around his one hand, and, leashed like
a dog, I was led and dragged t hrough t he people assembled at t he depot and shoved ont o t he
t rain. The conduct or showed us t o a glassed-in compart ment cont aining t wo benches, t he
door of which was adorned wit h a sign st at ing t he boot h was reserved for t he Minist ry of
Just ice. The ot her passengers looked at me in horror, shock or revulsion as we passed among
t hem, some falling back in disgust as t hey det ect ed my odor. I had long since lost all olfact ory
sensit ivit y t o my own feculence, but I could sympat hize wit h t hem. I had t o smell like a
convent ion of out raged skunks.
The compart ment was large enough t o accommodat e eight persons and as t he t rain filled
and all t he seat s were occupied, several st urdy peasant s, at various t imes, appeared and
sought permission t o ride in t he compart ment wit h us. They seemed oblivious t o my
malodorous condit ion. Each t ime, t he gendarmes waved t hem on wit h a curt refusal.
Then t hree vivacious, pret t y American girls appeared, dressed in a minimum of silks and
nylon and fest ooned wit h shopping bags laden wit h souvenirs and gift s, wines and foods.
They reeked delight fully of precious perfumes, and wit h a broad smile, one gendarme rose
and gallant ly seat ed t hem on t he opposit e bench. They immediat ely t ried t o engage t he
officers in conversat ion, curious as t o who I was and what my crime had been. Obviously,
ensnared in chains as I was, I was some not orious, t errible murderer, on a par at least wit h Jack
t he Ripper. They seemed more fascinat ed t han fright ened, and animat edly discussed my
offensive st ench. He smells like t heyve been keeping him in a sewer, remarked one. The
ot hers laughingly agreed.
I did not want t hem t o know I was an American. I felt degraded and ashamed of my
appearance in t heir presence. The gendarmes finally made t he t hree young women
underst and t hat t hey neit her spoke nor underst ood English, and t he t hree fell t o t alking among
t hemselves as t he t rain pulled out of t he st at ion.
I did not know where we were going. I had no sense of direct ion at t he moment and I t hought
it would be useless t o again seek my dest inat ion from t he gendarmes. I huddled miserably
bet ween t he officers, ill and despondent , occasionally looking out at t he passing landscape or
covert ly st udying t he girls. I gat hered from t heir conversat ional comment s t hat t hey were
schoolt eachers from t he Philadelphia area and were in Europe on a vacat ion. Theyd been t o
Spain, Port ugal and t he Pyrenees and were now journeying t o some ot her enchant ed area.
Were we en rout e t o Paris, I wondered?
As t he miles passed I grew hungry, despit e my feeling of sickness. The girls t ook cheeses
and breads from t heir bags, canned pat es and wine, and began t o eat , sharing t heir repast
wit h t he gendarmes. One at t empt ed t o feed me a small sandwich (my hands were rest rained
so t hat I could not have eat en had I been allowed), but one gendarme grasped her wrist gent ly.
No, he said firmly.
At some point , some hours aft er we left Perpignan, t he young women, convinced t hat
neit her I nor t he gendarmes could underst and English, commenced discussing t he amorous
advent ures t heyd been having on vacat ion, and in such int imat e det ail t hat I was ast onished.
They compared t he physical at t ribut es, prowess and performance of t heir various lovers in
such vivid language t hat I act ually felt embarrassed. Id never heard women engage in such
locker-room t ales, replet e wit h all t he four-let t er words and lewd comment s. I concluded I st ill
had a lot t o learn about women and at t he same t ime I speculat ed as t o my own st anding had I
been a part icipant in t heir sexual Olympics. I made a ment al not e t o t ry out for t heir games
should we ever meet again.
Our dest inat ion was Paris. The gendarmes hauled me t o my feet , made t heir farewells t o t he
ladies and hust led me off t he t rain. But not before Id said my own good-bye.
As I was pulled t hrough t he door of t he compart ment , I t wist ed my head and smiled
lasciviously at t he t hree young t eachers.
Say hello t o every one in Philly for me, I said in my best Bronx voice.
The expressions on t heir faces buoyed my sagging ego.
I was driven t o t he prefecture de police jail in Paris and t urned over t o t he prefet de police, a
plump, balding man wit h sleek jowls and cold, remorseless eyes. Nonet heless, t hose eyes
regist ered shock and disgust at my appearance, and he set about prompt ly remedying my
image. An officer escort ed me t o a shower, and aft er I had washed myself clean of my
accumulat ed filt h an inmat e barber was summoned t o snave my beard and shear my mane. I
was t hen escort ed t o a cell, a small and aust ere lit t le cubicle in realit y, but sheer luxury
compared t o my previous prison accommodat ions. &<<
There was a narrow iron cot wit h a wafer of a mat t ress and coarse, clean sheet s, a t iny
wash basin and an honest -t o-john t oilet . There was also a light , cont rolled from t he out side.
You may read unt il nine oclock. The light goes out t hen, t he guard informed me.
I didnt have anyt hing t o read. Look, Im sick, I said. Can I see a doct or, please?
I will ask, he said. He ret urned an hour lat er bearing a t ray on which reposed a bowl of t hin
st ew, a loaf of bread and a cont ainer of coffee. No doct or, he said. I am sorry. I t hink he
meant it .
The st ew had meat in it and was a verit able feast for me. In fact t he meager meal was t oo
rich for my st omach, which was unaccust omed t o such heart y fare. I vomit ed t he food wit hin an
hour aft er dining.
I was st ill unaware of my circumst ances. I didnt know whet her I would be brought t o t rial
again in Paris, whet her I was t o complet e my t erm here or be handed over t o some ot her
government . All my queries were rebuffed.
I was not t o st ay in Paris, however. The following morning, aft er a breakfast of coffee, bread
and cheese which I managed t o keep inside me, I was t aken from my cell and again shackled
like a wild animal. A pair of gendarmes placed me in a windowed van, my feet secured by a
chain t o a bolt in t he floor, and st art ed on a rout e t hat I soon recognized. I was being driven t o
Orly Airport .
At t he airport I was t aken from t he van and escort ed t hrough t he t erminal t o t he
Scandanavian Airlines Service count er. My progress t hrough t he t erminal at t ract ed a maximum
of at t ent ion and people even left cafes and bars t o gawk at me as I shuffled along, my chains
clinking and rat t ling.
I recognized t he one clerk behind t he SAS count er. Shed once cashed a phony check for
me. I couldnt now remember t he amount . If she recognized me, she gave no indicat ion of it .
However, t he man shed cashed a check for had been a robust t wo-hundred-pounder, t anned
and healt hy. The chained prisoner before her now was a sick, pallid-faced skelet on of a man,
st ooped and hollow-eyed. In fact , aft er one look at me, she kept her eyes avert ed.
Look, it wont hurt for you t o t ell me what s going on, I pleaded wit h t he gendarmes, who
were scanning t he human t raffic in t he vicinit y of t he t icket count er.
We are wait ing for t he Swedish police, one said in abrupt t ones. Now, shut up. Dont speak
t o us again.
He was suddenly confront ed by a pet it e and shapely young woman wit h long blond hair and
brilliant blue eyes, smart ly dressed in a t ailored blue suit over which she wore a fashionably cut
t rench coat . She carried a t hin leat her case under one arm. Behind her loomed a younger, t aller
Valkyrie, similarly at t ired, also holding an at t ache case t ucked under an arm.
Is t his Frank Abagnale? t he smaller one asked of t he gendarme on my left . He st epped in
front of me, holding up his hand.
That is none of your business, he snapped. At any rat e, he is not allowed visit ors. If t his
man is a friend of yours, you will not be allowed t o t alk t o him.
The blue eyes flashed and t he small shoulders squared. I will t alk t o him, Officer, and you will
t ake t hose chains off him, at once! Her t one was imperiously demanding. Then she smiled at
me and t he eyes were warm, t he feat ures gent le.
You are Frank Abagnale, are you not ? she asked in perfect English. May I call you Frank?
CHAPTER TEN
Put Out an APB Frank Abagnale Has Escaped!
The t wo gendarmes were t ransfixed in amazement , t wo grizzly bears suddenly challenged
by a chipmunk. I myself st ood gaping at t he lovely apparit ion who demanded t hat I be released
from my chains and who seemed det ermined t o t ake me from my t orment ors.
She ext ended a slender hand and placed it on my arm. I am Inspect or Jan Lundst rom of t he
Swedish police, t he nat ional police force, she said, and gest ured t o t he pret t y girl behind her.
This is my assist ant , Inspect or Kerst en Berglund, and we are here t o escort you back t o
Sweden, where, as I am sure you are aware, you face a criminal proceeding.
As she t alked, she ext ract ed a small leat her folder from her pocket and opened it t o display
t o t he French officers her credent ials and a small gold badge.
The gendarme, perplexed, looked at his part ner. The second gendarme displayed t he sheaf
of papers. He is her prisoner, he said wit h a shrug. Take off t he chains.
I was unshackled. The crowd applauded, an ovat ion accompanied by a whist ling and
st amping of feet . Inspect or Lundst rom drew me aside.
I wish t o make some t hings perfect ly clear, Frank, she said. We do not normally use
handcuffs or ot her rest raint s in Sweden. I never carry t hem myself. And you will not be
rest rained in any way during our journey. But our flight makes a st op in Denmark and my
count ry has had t o post a bond t o ensure your passage t hrough Denmark. It is a normal
procedure in t hese cases.
We will be on t he ground only an hour in Denmark, Frank. But I have a responsibilit y t o t he
French Government , t o t he Danish Government and t o my own government t o see t hat you
are brought t o Sweden in cust ody, t hat you do not escape. Now, I can assure you t hat you will
find Swedish jails and prisons far different from French prisons. We like t o t hink our prisoners
are t reat ed humanely.
But let me t ell you t his, Frank. I am armed. Kerst en is armed. We are bot h versed in t he use
of our weapons. If you t ry t o run, if you make an at t empt t o escape, we will have t o shoot you.
And if we shoot you, Frank, we will kill you. Is t hat underst ood?
The words were spoken calmly and wit hout heat , much in t he manner, in fact , of giving
direct ions t o a st ranger, cooperat ive but not really friendly. She opened t he large purse she
carried on a shoulder st rap. Bulking among it s cont ent s was a .45 semiaut omat ic pist ol.
I looked at Inspect or Berglund. She smiled angelically and pat t ed her own purse.
Yes, I underst and, I said. I really t hought she was bluffing. Neit her of my lovely capt ors
impressed me as an Annie Oakley.
Inspect or Lundst rom t urned t o t he clerk behind t he t icket count er. Were ready, she said.
The girl nodded and summoned anot her clerk, a young man, from a room behind her. He led us
t hrough an office behind t he count er, t hrough t he baggage area, t hrough operat ions and t o
t he planes boarding st airwell.
Save for t he shabby clot hing I was wearing, we appeared t o be just t hree more passengers.
And from t he lack of int erest in my appearance, I was probably regarded as just anot her hippie.
We were fed on t he plane before we landed in Copenhagen. It was t he usual meager airline
meal, but deliriously prepared, and it was t he first decent meal Id had since being commit t ed t o
prison. For me, it was a delight ful feast and I had t o force myself t o refuse my escort s offer of
t heir port ions.
We had a longer layover in Denmark t han was expect ed, t wo hours. The t wo young officers
prompt ly escort ed me t o one of t he t erminals rest aurant s and ordered a lavish lunch for t he
t hree of us, alt hough Im sure t hey couldnt have been hungry again. I felt it was st rict ly an
at t empt t o appease my st ill ravenous hunger, but I didnt prot est . Before we boarded t he plane
again, t hey bought me several candy bars and some English-language magazines.
Throughout t he t rip t hey t reat ed me as if I were a friend rat her t han a prisoner. They insist ed
I call t hem by t heir given names. They conversed wit h me as friends, inquiring about my family,
my likes, my dislikes and ot her general subject s. They probed only briefly int o my criminal
career, and t hen only t o ask about my horrible t reat ment in Perpignan prison, I was surprised t o
learn I had served only six mont hs in t hat hellhole. I had lost all t rack of t ime.
As a foreigner, you were not eligible for parole, but t he judge had discret ion t o reduce your
t erm, and he did so, said Jan. I was suddenly grat eful t o t he st ern jurist whod sent enced me.
Knowing t hat I had served only six mont hs, I realized I would not have last ed a full year in
Perpignan. Few prisoners did.
The plane landed in Malmo, Sweden, t hirt y minut es aft er leaving Copenhagen. To my
surprise, we disembarked in Malmo, ret rieved our luggage, and Jan and Kerst en led t he way t o
a marked police car, a Swedish black-and-whit e, parked in t he t erminal lot , a uniformed officer
at t he wheel. He helped load our luggaget he girls luggage, really, since I had noneint o t he
t runk and t hen drove us t o t he police st at ion in t he village of Klippan, a short dist ance from
Malmo.
I was int rigued by t he Klippan police st at ion. It seemed more like a quaint old inn t han a
police precinct . A ruddy-faced, smiling sergeant of police greet ed us, Jan and Kerst en in
Swedish, me in only slight ly accent ed English. He shook my hand as if he were greet ing a
guest . I have been expect ing you, Mr. Abagnale. I have all your papers here.
Sergeant , Frank needs a doct or, said Jan in English. He is very ill, Im afraid, and needs
immediat e at t ent ion.
It was nearly 9 P.M, but t he sergeant merely nodded. At once, Inspect or Lundst rdm, he
said, beckoning t o a young uniformed officer who st ood wat ching t he scene. Karl, please t ake
t he prisoner t o his quart ers.
Ja, min herre, he said and grinned at me. If you will follow me, please. I followed him in
somewhat of a daze. If t his was t he t reat ment accorded criminals in Sweden, how did t hey
t reat honest folk?
He led me down t he hall t o a huge oaken door, which he unlocked, opened and t hen st ood
aside for me t o ent er. I was st unned when I st epped inside. This was no cell, it was an
apart ment , a huge, spacious room wit h a great pict ure window overlooking t he village, a large
bed wit h carved head and foot board and a colorful spread, rust ic furnit ure and a separat e
bat hroom wit h bot h a t ub and a shower. Print s of gallant scenes from Swedens past
decorat ed t he walls, and t ast eful drapes, drawn at t he moment , afforded privacy from out side
passersby.
I hope you will be well soon, min herre, said Karl in his accent ed English before closing t he
door.
Thank you, I replied. I didnt know what else t o say, alt hough I want ed t o say more. Aft er his
depart ure, I inspect ed t he room closely. The windows were t hick plat e glass and could not be
opened and t he door also could not be opened from t he inside, but no mat t er. I had no
t hought s of escape from t his prison.
I didnt get t o sleep in t he bed t hat night . Wit hin minut es t he door opened again t o admit Jan
and a balding, amiable but very efficient , doct or. St rip, please, he said in English. I hesit at ed,
but Jan made no move t o leave, so I peeled my scant at t ire, really embarrassed t o st and naked
before her. Her face mirrored not hing but concern, however. Nudit y, I learned, is sexual only
under t he circumst ances wit h t he Swedes.
The doct or poked, prodded, looked and list ened, using a variet y of inst rument s, and t apped,
felt and pressed, all in silence, before he put away his inst rument s and st et hoscope and
nodded. This man is suffering from severe malnut rit ion and vit amin deficiency, but worst of all,
he has, in my opinion, double pneumonia, he said. I suggest you call an ambulance, Inspect or.
Yes, Doct or, said Jan and ran from t he room.
Wit hin t hirt y minut es I was ensconced in a privat e room in a small, clean and efficient
hospit al. I was t here a mont h, recuperat ing, a uniformed officer out side my door at all t imes but
seeming more a companion t han a guard. Each day, eit her Jan or Kerst en, t he sergeant or Karl
visit ed me, and each t ime t hey brought me somet hing, a bouquet , candy, a magazine or some
ot her lit t le gift .
Not once during my hospit al st ay was I quest ioned about my alleged crimes, nor was any
reference made t o my upcoming t rial or t he charges against me.
I was ret urned t o my cell at t he end of t he mont h, before lunch, and at noon Karl brought
me a menu. We do not have a kit chen/ he said apologet ically. You may order what you wish
from t his, and we will bring it from t he cafe. It is very good food, I assure you.
It cert ainly was. Wit hin a mont h I was back nudging t wo hundred pounds.
The day following my release from t he hospit al, Jan called on me, accompanied by a t hin
man wit h spright ly feat ures.
I am Inspect or Jan Lundst rom wit h t he Swedish Nat ional Police, she said formally. It is my
dut y t o t ell you t hat you will be held here for a period of t ime, and t hat it is also my dut y t o
int errogat e you. This is a minist er, and he will act as int erpret er. He speaks perfect English and
is familiar wit h all of your American slang and idioms.
I was flabbergast ed. Aw, come on, Jan, you speak perfect English yourself, I prot est ed.
What is t his?
Swedish law requires t hat an int erpret er fluent in t he language of a prisoner be present
when t hat prisoner is quest ioned, if he or she is a foreigner, said Jan, st ill speaking in correct
t ones as if she had never seen me before.
The law also says you have t he right t o an at t orney, and your at t orney must be present at
all t imes during your int errogat ion. Since you have no funds t o ret ain a lawyer, t he government
of Sweden has appoint ed you a counsel. Her name is Elsa Krist iansson and she will meet wit h
you lat er t oday. Do you underst and everyt hing I have t old you?
Perfect ly, I said.
I will see you t omorrow, t hen, she said, and left .
An hour lat er t here was a knock on my door and t hen t he port al opened. It was one of t he
guards wit h my supper, a bount iful and t ast eful meal, which he arranged on a port able t able as
if he were a wait er and not a jailer.
When he ret urned t o gat her up t he dishes, he grinned at me. Would you like t o t ake a
walk? he asked. It will only be in t he building, as I make my rounds, but I t hought perhaps you
might be get t ing t ired of being shut inside.
I accompanied him t o t he kit chen, where a wait er from a nearby rest aurant t ook t he t ray and
used dishes from him. The kit chen was not really a kit chen, just a nook where t he guards could
brew coffee for t hemselves. He t hen led me on a t our of t he jail, a t wo-st ory affair t hat could
accommodat e only t went y prisoners. At each cell, he knocked before opening t he door,
greet ed t he occupant pleasant ly and inquired of t he prisoners needs. He bade each a cheery
good night before closing and locking t he door.
When I ret urned t o my cell, Elsa Krist iansson was wait ing for me, as was t he int erpret er, Rev.
Carl Greek. I wondered at his presence unt il he explained t hat Mrs. Krist iansson did not speak
any English at all. Nor did she spend any t ime inquiring about rny case. She merely
acknowledged t he int roduct ion and t hen t old me she would be on hand t he next morning
when Jan commenced her int errogat ion.
She was a t all, handsome woman of about fort y, I judged, serene and court eous, but I had
misgivings about her act ing as my lawyer. St ill, I had no choice. I had no funds t o hire an
at t orney of my choice. The French police had seized all my asset s in France, or so I presumed.
They had not ment ioned anyt hing about my loot following my arrest or during my det ent ion,
and t hey cert ainly hadnt ret urned any money t o me on my release. And, here in Sweden, I had
no way of get t ing funds from one of my many caches.
Jan appeared t he next morning wit h Mrs. Krist iansson and Herre Greek. She commenced
immediat ely t o quest ion me about my criminal act ivit ies in Sweden, wit h Bergen t ranslat ing her
queries for Mrs. Krist iansson, who sat silent , merely nodding now and t hen.
I was evasive wit h Jan during t he first t wo int errogat ive sessions. Eit her I refused t o answer
or I would reply I dont remember or I cant say.
On t he t hird day Jan became exasperat ed. Frank! Frank! she exclaimed. Why are you so
defensive? Why are you so evasive? Youre here, youre going t o go t o t rial, and it would be
much bet t er for you if you are honest wit h me. We know who you are and we know what
youve done, and you know we have t he evidence. Why are you so reluct ant t o t alk?
Because I dont want t o go t o prison for t went y years, even if it is a nice prison like t his one,
I replied blunt ly.
Bergen t ranslat ed for Mrs. Krist iansson. The react ion of all t hree was t ot ally unexpect ed.
They burst int o laught er, t he loud, t ear-producing peals of laught er usually provoked only by
fine slapst ick comedy. I sat looking at t hem in amazement .
Jan calmed herself somewhat , but st ill shaking wit h delight , she looked at me. Twent y
years? she gulped.
Or five years, or t en years, or what ever, I replied defensively, irrit at ed at t heir at t it ude.
Five years? Ten years? Jan exclaimed. Frank, t he maximum penalt y for t he crime you are
charged wit h is one year, and I will be very surprised if you receive t hat much t ime, since you
are a first offender. Frank, murderers and bank robbers rarely receive over t en years on
convict ion in t his count ry. What you did is a very serious offense, but we consider a year in
prison a very serious punishment , and I assure you t hat is t he maximum sent ence you face.
I gave her a complet e confession, det ailing what I could recall of my t ransact ions in Sweden.
A week lat er I was brought t o t rial in Malmo before a jury of eight men and women who would
det ermine bot h my guilt and my punishment , my confession having excluded any quest ion of
innocence.
Yet I almost beat t he rap. Or Mrs. Krist iansson did. She surprised me by challenging t he
whole proceedings at t he close of t est imony against me. The charge against me was serious
fraud by check, she t old t he presiding judge.
I would point out t o t he court t hat t he inst rument s int roduced here t oday are not checks, as
defined by Swedish law, she cont ended. They are inst rument s he made up himself. They
never were checks. They are not checks at t his t ime.
Under Swedish law, Your Honor, t hese inst rument s could never be checks, since t hey are
ut t er count erfeit s. Under t he law, Your Honor, my client has not really forged any checks, since
t hese inst rument s are not checks, but merely creat ions of his own, and t herefore t he charges
against him should be dismissed.
The charges werent dismissed. But t hey were reduced t o a lesser felony, t he equivalent of
obt aining money under false pret enses, and t he jury sent enced me t o six mont hs in prison. I
considered it a vict ory and rendered my ent husiast ic t hanks t o Mrs. Krist iansson, who was also
pleased wit h t he verdict .
I was ret urned t o my cell in t he Klippan jail, and t he next day Jan appeared t o congrat ulat e
me. However, she also had disquiet ing news. I was not t o serve my t ime in my comfort able and
homey lit t le host elry in Klippan, but was t o be t ransferred t o t he st at e inst it ut ion in Malmo,
locat ed on t he campus of Lund Universit y, t he oldest college in Europe. You will find it very
different from t he prisons in France. In fact it is very different from any of your American
prisons, Jan assured me.
My misgivings evaporat ed when I was delivered t o t he prison, known on t he campus as The
Criminal Ward. There was not hing of a prison at mosphere about t he ward no fences, no
guard t owers, no bars, no elect ronic gat es or doors. It blended right in wit h t he ot her large and
st at ely buildings on t he campus. It was, in fact , a complet ely open facilit y.
I was checked in and escort ed t o my quart ers, for I no longer looked on Swedish det ent ion
rooms as cells. My room in t he ward was slight ly smaller, but just as comfort able, and wit h
similar furnishings and facilit ies, t o t hose of t he one in which Id been lodged at Klippan.
The prison rules were relaxed, t he rest rict ions lenient . I could wear my own clot hes, and since
I had only t he one set , I was escort ed t o a clot hing st ore in t he cit y where I was out fit t ed wit h
t wo changes of clot hes. I was given unrest rict ed freedom t o writ e and receive let t ers or ot her
mail, and my mail was not censored. Since t he ward housed only one hundred prisoners, and it
was not deemed economical t o maint ain a kit chen, food was brought t o prisoners from out side
rest aurant s and t he prisoner prepared his own menu wit hin reason.
The ward was a coed prison. Several women were housed in t he inst it ut ion, but sexual
cohabit at ion was prohibit ed bet ween inmat es. Conjugal visit s were allowed bet ween a man
and wife, a wife and husband or bet ween an inmat e and his/her boy/girl friend. The prisoners
had t he freedom of t he building bet ween 7 A.M. and 10 P.M., and t hey could receive visit ors in
t heir quart ers bet ween 4 P.M. and 10 P.M. daily. The inmat es were locked int o t heir rooms at
10 P.M., curfew t ime in t he ward.
The ward housed no violent criminals. It s inmat es were check swindlers, car t hieves,
embezzlers and similar nonviolent criminals. However, prisoners were segregat ed, in
mult iroomed dormit ories, by age, sex and t ype of crime. I was lodged in a dormit ory wit h ot her
forgers and count erfeit ers of like age.
Swedish prisons act ually at t empt t o rehabilit at e a criminal. I was t old I could, during my t erm,
eit her at t end classes at t he universit y or work in a parachut e fact ory sit uat ed on t he prison
grounds. Or I could simply serve my t ime in t he ward. If I at t ended classes, t he Swedish
Government would pay my t uit ion and furnish my supplies. If I chose t o work in t he parachut e
fact ory, I would be paid t he prevailing free-world wage for my job classificat ion.
Escape would have been easy, save for one fact or. The Swedes, at an early age, are issued
ident it y cards They are rarely required t o produce t he card, but a policeman has a right t o ask
a cit izen t o display his or her ident it y card. And display of t he ID is required for any border
crossing, or int ernat ional t rain or plane journey. I didnt have one. I also didnt have any money.
It really didnt mat t er. Escape never ent ered my mind. I loved it at Malmo prison. One day, t o
my ast onishment , one of my vict ims, a young bank clerk, appeared t o visit me, bringing a
basket of fresh fruit and some Swedish cheeses. I t hought you might like t o know t hat I did
not get int o any t rouble because of your cashing checks at my st at ion, said t he young man.
Also, I want ed you t o know I have no ill feelings t oward you. It must be very difficult t o be
imprisoned.
I had really conned t hat kid. I had made him my friend, in fact , even visit ing in his home, in
order t o perpet rat e my swindle. His gest ure really t ouched me.
I bot h worked in t he parachut e fact ory and at t ended classes, which seemed t o please t he
wards supervisors. I st udied commercial art , alt hough I was more adept in some of t he
t echniques t aught at Lund t han t he inst ruct ors.
The six mont hs passed swift ly, t oo swift ly. During t he fourt h mont h, Mrs. Krist iansson
appeared wit h alarming news. The government s of It aly, Spain, Turkey, Germany, England,
Swit zerland, Greece, Denmark, Norway, Egypt , Lebanon and Cyprus had all made formal
request s t o ext radit e me on complet ion of my sent ence, and had been accorded preference in
t hat order. I would be handed over t o It alian aut horit ies on complet ion of my t erm, and It aly
would det ermine which count ry would get me aft er I set t led my debt wit h t he It alians.
One of my fellow inmat es in t he ward had served t ime in an It alian prison. The horror t ales he
recount ed convinced me t hat It alian prisons were as bad as, if not worse t han, Perpignans jail.
Mrs. Krist iansson, t oo, had heard t hat condit ions in It alian penal unit s were ext remely harsh
and brut al. She also had informat ion t hat It alian judges and juries were not not ed for leniency in
criminal cases.
We launched a det ermined campaign t o prevent my ext radit ion t o It aly. I bombarded t he
judge who had presided at my t rial, t he Minist er of Just ice and even t he King himself wit h
pet it ions and pleas for sanct uary, asking t hat I be allowed t o st ay in Sweden aft er my release
or at t he worst t hat I be deport ed t o my nat ive Unit ed St at es. I point ed out t hat no mat t er
where I went , if I was denied refuge in Sweden, I would be punished again and again for t he
same crime, and conceivably I could be shunt ed from prison t o prison for t he rest of my life.
Each and every one of my pleadings was reject ed. Ext radit ion t o It aly seemed inevit able. The
night before It alian aut horit ies were t o t ake me int o cust ody, I lay in my bed, unable t o sleep
and mulling over desperat e plans for escape. I didnt feel I could survive any amount of
imprisonment in It aly if penal condit ions t here were as t errible as I had been t old, and I act ually
felt it would be bet t er for me t o be killed in an escape at t empt t han t o die in a hellhole similar t o
Perpignans.
Short ly before midnight , a guard appeared. Get dressed, Frank, and pack all your
belongings, he inst ruct ed me. Therere some people here t o get you.
I sat up, alarmed. What people? I asked. The It alians werent supposed t o pick me up
before t omorrow, I was t old.
They arent , he replied. These are Swedish officers.
Swedish officers! I exclaimed. What do t hey want ?
He shook his head. I dont know. But t hey have t he proper papers t o t ake you int o cust ody.
He escort ed me out of t he ward and t o a marked police car parked at t he curb. A uniformed
officer in t he back seat opened t he door and mot ioned for me t o get in beside him. The judge
want s t o see you, he said.
They drove me t o t he judges home, a modest dwelling in an at t ract ive neighborhood, where
I was admit t ed by t he judges wife. The officers remained out side. She led me t o t he judges
st udy and gest ured t oward a large leat her chair. Sit down, Mr. Abagnale, she said pleasant ly.
I will bring you some t ea, and t he judge will be wit h you short ly. She spoke perfect English.
The judge, when he appeared a few minut es lat er, was also fluent in English. He seat ed
himself opposit e me aft er greet ing me and t hen regarded me in silence for a few minut es. I said
not hing, alt hough I want ed t o ask a dozen or more quest ions.
Finally t he judge st art ed speaking, in a soft , deliberat e manner. Young man, Ive had you on
my mind for t he past several days, he said. I have, in fact , made many inquiries int o your
background and your case. You are a bright young man, Mr. Abagnale, and I t hink you could
have made a wort hwhile cont ribut ion t o societ y, not only in your own count ry but elsewhere,
had you chosen a different course. It is regret t able t hat you have made t he mist akes t hat you
have made.
He paused. Yes, sir, I said meekly, hopeful t hat I was here for more t han a lect ure.
We are bot h aware, young man, t hat if you are ret urned t o It aly t omorrow, you might very
well face a prison sent ence of up t o t went y years, t he judge cont inued. I have some
knowledge of It alian prisons, Mr. Abagnale. They are very much like French prisons. And when
you have served your sent ence, you will be handed over t o Spain, I underst and. As you point ed
out in your pet it ion, young man, you could very well spend t he rest of your life in European
prisons.
And t heres very lit t le we can do about t hat , Mr. Abagnale. We have t o honor It alys request
for ext radit ion just as France honored ours. The law is not somet hing we can flout wit h
impunit y, sir. He paused again.
I know, sir, I said, my hopes receding. I would like t o st ay here, but I underst and I cannot .
He rose and began t o pace around t he st udy, t alking t he while. What if you had a chance t o
st art your life anew, Mr. Abagnale? he asked. Do you t hink you would choose a const ruct ive
life t his t ime?
Yes, sir, if I had t he chance, I replied.
Do you t hink youve learned your lesson, as t he t eachers say? he pursued.
Yes, sir, I really have, I said, my hopes rising again He seat ed himself again and looked at
me, finally nodding. I did somet hing t onight , Mr. Abagnale, t hat surprised even myself, he said.
Had someone t old me t wo weeks ago t hat I would t ake t his act ion, I would have quest ioned
his sanit y.
Tonight , young man, I called a friend of mine in t he American Embassy and made a request
t hat violat es your right s under Swedish law. I asked him t o revoke your U.S. passport , Mr.
Abagnale. And he did.
I gazed at him, and from his slight grin I knew my ast onishment was visible. I was really
puzzled at his act ion, but not for long.
You are now an unwelcome alien in Sweden, Mr. Abagnale, t he judge said, smiling. And I
can legally order your deport at ion t o t he Unit ed St at es, regardless of any ext radit ion request s
pending. In a few minut es, Mr. Abagnale, I am going t o order t he officers out side t o t ake you t o
t he airport and place you on a plane for New York Cit y. All t he arrangement s have been made.
Of course, you should know t hat police of your own count ry will be wait ing t o arrest you
when you debark from t he aircraft . You are a want ed criminal in your own count ry, t oo, sir, and I
felt it only proper t hat t hey be not ified of my act ions. The FBI has been informed of your flight
number and t he t ime of your arrival.
Im sure you will be t ried in your own count ry. But at least , young man, you will be among
your own people and Im sure your family will be present t o support you and t o visit you in
prison, if you are convict ed. However, in case you arent aware, once you have served your
t erm in America, none of t hese ot her count ries can ext radit e you. The law in t he Unit ed St at es
prohibit s a foreign nat ion from ext radit ing you from t he land of your birt h.
I have t aken t his act ion, young man, because I feel it is in t he best int erest s of all concerned,
especially yourself. I t hink, when you have set t led your obligat ions in your own count ry, t hat
you can have a fruit ful and happy life. ... I am gambling my personal int egrit y on t hat , Mr.
Abagnale. I hope you dont prove me wrong.
I want ed t o hug and kiss him. Inst ead I wrung his hand and t earfully promised him t hat I
would make somet hing wort hwhile of my fut ure. It was a promise I was t o break wit hin
eight een hours.
The officers drove me t o t he airport , where, t o my delight , Jan was wait ing t o t ake charge of
me. She had a large envelope cont aining my passport , my ot her papers and t he money I had
earned in t he prison parachut e fact ory. She gave me a $20 bill for pocket money before
handing over t he envelope t o t he pilot . This man is being deport ed, she t old t he plane
commander. Officers of t he Unit ed St at es will meet t he plane in New York and will t ake him
int o cust ody. You will t urn over t his propert y t o t hem.
She t urned t o me and t ook my hand. Good-bye, Frank, and good luck. I hope your fut ure will
be a happy one, she said gravely.
I kissed her, t o t he ast onishment of t he pilot and a wat ching st ewardess. It was t he first
overt ure I had made t oward Jan, and it was a gest ure of sincere admirat ion. I will never forget
you, I said. And I never have. Jan Lundst rom will always be a fine and gracious person, a lovely
and helpful friend, in my t hought s.
It was a nonst op flight t o New York. I was seat ed up front , near t he cockpit , where t he crew
could keep an eye on me, but ot herwise I was t reat ed as just anot her passenger. In flight I had
t he freedom of t he passenger sect ions.
I do not know when I began t hinking of eluding t he wait ing officers, or why I felt compelled t o
bet ray t he judges t rust in me. Perhaps it was when I st art ed t hinking of my short sojourn in t he
Bost on jail, wit h it s sordid t anks and cells. Cert ainly it was luxurious when compared t o
Perpignans prison, but if American prisons were comparable, I didnt want t o do t ime in one. My
six mont hs in t he Klippan jail and t he ward had spoiled me.
The jet was a VC-10, a Brit ish Viscount , an aircraft wit h which I was very familiar. A BOAC
pilot had once given me a det ailed t our of a VC-10, explaining it s every st ruct ural specificat ion,
even t o const ruct ion of t he Johns.
From past flight experiences, I knew t he jet would land on Kennedys Runway 13 and t hat it
would require approximat ely t en minut es for t he aircraft t o t axi t o t he t erminal.
Ten minut es before t he pilot was t o make his landing approach, I rose and st rolled back t o
one of t he lavat ories and locked myself inside. I reached down and felt for t he snap-out knobs I
knew were locat ed at t he base of t he t oilet , pulled t hem out , t wist ed t hem and lift ed out t he
ent ire t oilet apparat us, a self-cont ained plumbing unit , t o disclose t he t wo-foot -square hat ch
cover for t he vacuum hose used t o service t he aircraft on t he ground.
I wait ed. The plane t ouched down wit h a jolt and t hen slowed as t he pilot reversed his
engines and used his flaps as brakes. At t he end of t he runway, I knew, he would come t o
almost a complet e st op as he t urned t he jet ont o t he t axi st rip leading t o t he t erminal. When I
judged he was almost at t hat point , I squeezed down int o t he t oilet compart ment , opened t he
hat ch and wriggled t hrough, hanging from t he hat ch combing by my fingers, dangling t en feet
above t he t armac. I knew when I opened t he hat ch t hat an alarm beeper would sound in t he
cockpit , but I also knew from past flight s t hat t he hat ch was oft en jarred open slight ly by t he
impact of landing and t hat t he pilot , since he was already on t he ground, usually just shut off
t he beeper as t he hat ch being ajar posed no hazard.
I really didnt care whet her t his pilot was of t hat school or not . We had landed at night . When
t he huge jet slowed almost t o a st op, I released my hold on t he combing and lit running.
I fled st raight across t he runway in t he darkness, lat er learning t hat I had escaped unnot iced,
t he met hod of my escape unknown unt il an irat e ORiley and ot her FBI agent s searched t he
plane and found t he lift ed-out t oilet .
On t he Van Wyck Expressway side of t he airport , I scaled a cyclone fence and hailed a
passing cab. Grand Cent ral St at ion, I said. On arrival at t he st at ion, I paid t he cabbie out of
t he $20 bill I had and t ook a t rain t o t he Bronx.
I didnt go home. I felt bot h my mot hers apart ment and my fat hers home would be under
surveillance, but I did call Mom and t hen Dad. It was t he first t ime in more t han five years t hat I
had heard t heir voices, and in each inst ance, bot h Mom and I and Dad and I ended up
blubbering wit h t ears. I resist ed t heir ent reat ies t o come t o one of t heir homes and surrender
myself t o officers. Alt hough I felt ashamed of myself for breaking my promise t o t he Malmo
judge, I felt Id had enough of prison life.
Act ually, I went t o t he Bronx t o see a girl wit h whom Id st ashed some money and some
clot hing, one suit of which cont ained a set of keys t o a Mont real bank safe-deposit box. She
was surprised t o see me. Good lord, Frank! she exclaimed. I t hought you had disappeared for
good. A few more days and I was going t o spend your money and give your clot hes t o t he
Salvat ion Army.
I did not st op t o dally. I wasnt sure how many of my girl friends and acquaint ances t he FBI
had been able t o ident ify, or which ones, but I knew some had been ferret ed out . I grabbed my
clot hes, gave her all but $50 of t he money and grabbed a t rain for Mont real.
I had $20,000 st ashed in a Mont real safe-deposit box. It was my int ent ion t o pick up t he
money and t ake t he soonest flight t o Sao Paulo, Brazil, where I int ended t o go t o eart h. You
pick up some int erest ing informat ion in prison, and in t he ward I had learned t hat Brazil and t he
Unit ed St at es had no ext radit ion t reat y. Since I hadnt commit t ed any crimes in Brazil, I felt I
would be safe t here and t hat Brazilian aut horit ies would refuse ext radit ion even if I were
caught in t hat count ry.
I picked up t he money. I never made t he flight . I was wait ing in line at t he Mont real airport t o
purchase a t icket when someone t apped me on t he shoulder. I t urned t o face a t all, muscular
man wit h pleasant feat ures, in t he uniform of t he Royal Canadian Mount ed Police.
Frank Abagnale, I am Const able James Hast ings, and you are under arrest , said t he
Mount ie wit h a friendly smile.
The next day I was driven t o t he New York-Canada border and handed over t o t he U.S.
Border Pat rol, who t urned me over t o FBI agent s, who t ook me t o New York Cit y and lodged
me in t he federal det ent ion facilit y t here.
I was arraigned before a U.S. commissioner who bound me over for t rial under a $250,000
bond and remanded me t o t he det ent ion house pending a decision on t he part of prosecut ors
as t o where t o bring me t o t rial.
Two mont hs lat er t he U.S. at t orney in t he Nort hern Dist rict of Georgia prevailed, and U.S.
marshals t ook me t o t he Fult on Count y, Georgia, jail t o await my t rial.
The Fult on Count y Jail was a pest hole, a real roach pit . It s bad news, man, said anot her
prisoner I met in t he day room of our cruddy cellblock. The only decent facilit y in t he joint is t he
hospit al, and you have t o be dying t o get in t here.
The only decent facilit y in t he day room was a pay t elephone. I plopped a dime in and dialed
t he desk sergeant . This is Dr. John Pet sky, I said in aut horit at ive t ones.
You have a pat ient of mine as a prisoner, one Frank Abagnale. Mr. Abagnale is a severe
diabet ic, subject t o frequent comas, and I would appreciat e it , Sergeant , if you could confine
him in your medical ward where I can visit him and administ er proper t reat ment .
Wit hin t hirt y minut es a jailer appeared t o escort me t o t he hospit al ward, leaving t he ot her
inmat es who had heard my conversat ion grinning in admirat ion.
A week lat er a U.S. marshal appeared, t ook me int o cust ody and t ransferred me t o t he
Federal Det ent ion Cent er in At lant a t o await t rial. It was from t his prison t hat I perpet rat ed
what has t o be one of t he most hilarious escapes in t he annals of prison hist ory. At least I
t hought it was funny, and Im st ill amused by t he episode, alt hough t herere several ot hers who
st ill hold an opposit e view.
Act ually, mine wasnt so much an escape as it was a cooperat ive evict ion, made possible by
t he t ime and t he circumst ances. I was ensconced in t he det ent ion facilit y during a period when
U.S. prisons were being condemned by civil right s groups, scrut inized by congressional
commit t ees and invest igat ed by Just ice Depart ment agent s. Prison inspect ors were working
overt ime, and undercover, and earning t he enmit y and host ilit y of prison administ rat ors and
guards.
I was brought int o t his at mosphere under exact ly t he right circumst ances. The U.S. marshal
who. delivered me t o t he facilit y had no commit ment papers for me, but did have a short
t emper.
The admissions officer t o whom I was offered had a lot of quest ions for t he U.S. marshal.
Who was I? Why was I being lodged here? And why didnt t he marshal have t he proper
papers?
The marshal blew his cool. Hes here under a court order, he snapped. Just put him in a
damned cell and feed him unt il we come aft er him.
The admissions officer reluct ant ly accept ed cust ody of me. He really had no choice. The
marshal had st ormed out . I t hink I could have followed him wit hout anyones st opping me, in
light of what I learned. Anot her damned prison inspect or, eh? murmured t he guard who
escort ed me t o my cell.
Not me, Im here await ing t rial, I replied t rut hfully.
Sure you are, he scoffed, slamming t he cell door. You bast ards t hink youre slick, dont
you? You people got t wo of our guys fired last mont h. Weve learned how t o spot you.
I wasnt issued t he whit e cot t on uniform t he ot her inmat es sport ed. I was allowed t o keep
my regular clot hing. I not ed, t oo, t hat t he cell in which I was placed, while not posh, was
exceedingly livable. The food was good and t he At lant a papers were brought t o me daily,
usually wit h a sarcast ic remark. I was never called by name, but was addressed as fink,
st oolie, 007 or some ot her derisive t erm meant t o connot e my assumed st at us as a prison
inspect or. Reading t he At lant a papers, which t wice t he first week cont ained st ories relat ing t o
condit ions in federal penal inst it ut ions, I realized t he personnel of t his facilit y really did suspect I
was an undercover federal agent .
Had I been, t hey would have had no worries, and I v as puzzled as t o why large numbers of
influent ial people t hought American prisons were a disgrace t o t he nat ion. I t hought t his one
was great . Not quit e up t o t he st andards of t he Malmo ward, but much bet t er t han some
mot els in which Id st ayed.
However, if t he guards here want ed me t o be a prison inspect or, t hat s what Id be. I
cont act ed a st ill loyal girl friend in At lant a. The prison rules were not overly lenient , but once a
week we were allowed t o use t he t elephone in privacy. I got her on t he phone when it was my
t urn.
Look, I know what it usually t akes t o get out of here, I t old her. See what you have t o do t o
get in, will you?
Her name was Jean Sebring, and she didnt have t o do much t o get in t o see me. She merely
ident ified herself as my girl friend, my fiancee, in fact , and she was allowed t o visit me. We met
across a t able in one of t he large visit ing rooms. We were separat ed by a t hree-foot -high pane
of glass perforat ed by a wire-mesh apert ure t hrough which we could t alk. A guard was at
eit her end of t he room, but out of earshot . If you want t o give him somet hing, hold it up and
well nod if it s permissible, one guard inst ruct ed her.
I had concoct ed a plan before Jean arrived. It might prove t o be merely an int ellect ual
exercise, I knew, but I t hought it was wort h a t ry. However, I first had t o persuade Jean t o help
me, for out side assist ance was vit al t o my plot . She was not difficult t o persuade. Sure, why
not ? she agreed, smiling. I t hink it would be funny as hell if you pulled it off.
Have you met an FBI agent named Sean ORiley or t alked t o him? I asked.
She nodded. In fact , he gave me one of his cards when he came around asking about you,
she said.
Great ! I ent hused. I t hink were in business, baby.
We really were. That week, Jean, posing as a free-lance magazine writ er, called at t he U.S.
Bureau of Prisons in Washingt on, D.C., and finagled an int erview wit h Inspect or C. W. Dunlap,
purport edly on fire safet y measures in federal det ent ion cent ers. She pulled it off beaut ifully,
but t hen Jean is not only t alent ed, she is also chic, sophist icat ed and lovely, a woman t o whom
any man would readily t alk.
She t urned at t he door as she left . Oh, may I have one of your cards, Inspect or, in case
some ot her quest ion comes t o mind and I have t o call you? she asked.
Dunlap prompt ly handed over his card.
She laughingly det ailed her success during her next visit , in t he course of which she held up
Dunlaps card, and when t he one guard nodded, she passed it over t he barrier t o me.
Her visit s only bolst ered t he guards belief t hat I was a Bureau of Prisons prober. Who is she,
your secret ary, or is she a prison inspect or, t oo? one guard asked me as he ret urned me t o my
cell.
That s t he girl Im going t o marry, I replied cheerfully.
Jean visit ed a st at ionery print shop t hat week. My fat her just moved int o a new apart ment
and has a new t elephone number, she t old t he print er. I want t o present him wit h five
hundred new personal cards as a house-warming gift . I want t hem t o look exact ly like t his, but
wit h his new home t elephone number and his new office number insert ed. She gave t he
print er ORileys card.
ORileys new t elephone numbers were t he numbers of side-by-side pay t elephones in an
At lant a shopping mall.
The print er had Jeans order ready in t hree days. She passed me one of t he cards on her
next visit , and we finalized our plans. Jean said shed enlist ed t he aid of a male friend just in
case. I didnt fill him in on anyt hing, of course; I just t old him we were pulling a pract ical joke,
she said.
Okay, well t ry it t omorrow night , I said. Let s hope no one want s t o use t hose phones
around 9 P.M.
Short ly before 9 P.M. t he following day, I hailed t he cellblock guard, whom I had cult ivat ed int o
a friendly adversary. List en, Rick, somet hings come up and I need t o see t he lieut enant on
dut y. You were right about me. I am a prison inspect or. Heres my card. I handed him Dunlaps
card, which bore only his Washingt on office number. If anyone decided t o call t he Bureau of
Prisons, t heyd be t old t he offices were closed.
Rick scanned t he card and laughed. By God, we knew we were right about you, he
chort led. Combs is gonna like t his. Come on. He opened t he cell door and led me t o
Lieut enant Combs office.
The lieut enant was equally pleased t o learn, as he also had suspect ed, t hat I was a prison
inspect or. We had you figured all along, he growled amiably, t ossing Dunlaps card on his desk
aft er looking at it .
I grinned. Well, it would have all come out Tuesday anyway, I said. And Ill t ell you now t hat
you people dont have anyt hing t o worry about . Youre now running a clean, t ight ship, t he kind
t he bureau likes t o brag about . Youll like my report .
A pleased look began t o spread across Combs face and I plunged ahead wit h my gamble.
But right now Ive got some urgent business t o t ake care of, I said. I need t o get hold of t his
FBI agent . Can you get him on t he horn for me? Hell st ill be at his office, Im sure. I handed
over t he doct ored card bearing ORileys name, his posit ion wit h t he FBI and t he t wo phony
t elephone numbers.
Combs didnt hesit at e. He picked up his t elephone and dialed t he office number. Ive read
about t his guy ORiley, he remarked as he dialed. Hes supposed t o be hell on wheels for
nabbing bank robbers.
The office phone st art ed ringing. Jean answered on t he second ring. Good evening,
Federal Bureau of Invest igat ion. May I help you?
Yes, is Inspect or ORiley in? Combs said. This is Combs at t he det ent ion cent er. Weve got
a man here who want s t o t alk t o him.
He didnt even wait for ORiley t o answer. He just passed t he phone t o me. She said shell
get him for you, Combs t old me.
I wait ed an appropriat e few seconds and t hen launched int o my act . Yes, Inspect or ORiley?
My name is Dunlap, C. W. Dunlap, wit h t he Bureau of Prisons. If youve got your list handy, my
aut horized code number is 16295-A. . . . Yes, t hat s right . . . . Im here now, but Ive t old t hese
people who I am. ... I had t o. ... Yes. . . .
List en, Inspect or ORiley, Ive come up wit h some informat ion on t hat Philly case youre
working, and I need t o get it t o you t onight . . . . No, sir, I cant give it t o you over t he t elephone . .
. it s t oo sensit ive ... I have t o see you, and I have t o see you wit hin t he hour. . . . Time is
import ant . . . . Oh, you are. ... Well, look t hese guys wont blow your cover. . . . No, it ll only t ake
t en minut es.
. . . Wait a minut e, let me t alk t o t he lieut enant , Im sure hell go along.
I covered t he mout hpiece of t he t elephone and looked at Combs. Boy, t hese J. Edgar
Hoovers are really way out . Hes working undercover on somet hing and doesnt want t o come
inside . . . some kind of Must ache Pet e job or somet hing, I t old Combs. If he parks out front ,
can I go out and t alk t o him in his car for about t en minut es?
Combs grimaced. Hell, why dont you call your people and spring yourself right now? he
asked. You aint needed here anymore, are you?
No, I said. But we have t o do t hese t hings by t he book. A U.S. marshal will come for me
Tuesday. That s t he way my boss want ed it done, and t hat s t he way it ll be done. And Id
appreciat e it if you people wouldnt let on t hat I blew my own cover. But I had t o. This is t oo
big.
Combs shrugged. Sure, well let you meet ORiley. Hell, spend an hour wit h him, if you like.
I went back t o t he t elephone. ORiley, it s okay. . . . Yeah, out front .... a red-over-whit e Buick. .
. . Got it . ... No, no problem. These guys are okay. I really dont know why youre being so
damned caut ious. Theyre on our t eam, t oo, you know.
Rick brought me a cup of coffee and st ood by t he window while I sipped t he brew and
chat t ed wit h Combs. Heres your Buick, Rick said fift een minut es lat er. Combs rose and
picked up a large ring of keys. Come on, he said. Ill let you out myself.
There was an elevat or, used by guards only, behind his office. We rode it down and he
escort ed me past t he guard in t he small foyer and unlocked t he barred doors. I walked t hrough
as t he guard looked on curiously but wit hout comment , and st rolled down t he walkway leading
t o t he curb and t he parked car. Jean was behind t he wheel, her hair hidden under a mans
broad-brimmed hat and wearing a mans coat .
She giggled as I climbed in beside her. Hot dog! We did it ! she gurgled.
I smiled. See how fast you can get t he hell away from here, I said, grinning from sheer
jubilat ion.
She peeled out of t here like a drag racer, burning rubber and leaving t ire marks on t he
pavement as a mement o. Away from t he cent er, she slowed t o avoid at t ract ing t he at t ent ion
of any cruising radio pat rolman, and t hen drove a meandering course t hrough At lant a t o t he
bus st at ion. I kissed her good-bye t here and t ook a Greyhound t o New York. Jean went home,
packed and moved t o Mont ana. If she was ever connect ed wit h t he caper, no one was inclined
t o press charges.
It was a very embarrassing sit uat ion for t he prison officials. It is a mat t er of record in FBI files
t hat Combs and Rick sought t o cover t hemselves, when t hey realized t heyd been had, by
report ing I had forcibly escaped cust ody. However, t he t rut h, as t he sage observed, soon
out ed.
I knew I would be t he subject of an int ense manhunt , and I resolved again t o flee t o Brazil,
but I knew I would have t o wait unt il t he hunt for me cooled. For t he next few days, I was
cert ain, all point s of depart ure from t he Unit ed St at es would be under surveillance.
My escape made t he front page of one New York paper. Frank Abagnale, known t o police
t he world over as t he Skywayman and who once flushed himself down an airline t oilet t o elude
officers, is at large again . . . t he st ory commenced.
I didnt have a st ash of money in New York, but Jean had loaned me enough t o live on unt il
t he hunt for me died down. I holed up in Queens and, t wo weeks lat er, t ook t he t rain t o
Washingt on, D.C., where I rent ed a car and checked int o a mot el on t he out skirt s of t he capit al.
I went t o Washingt on because I had several caches in banks across t he Pot omac in Virginia,
and Washingt on seemed t o offer a safe haven, wit h it s huge and het erogeneous populat ion. I
didnt t hink Id at t ract any at t ent ion t here at all.
I was wrong. An hour aft er I checked int o my room, I happened t o glance out t he window
t hrough a part in t he drapes and saw several police officers scurrying t o t ake up posit ions
around t his sect ion of t he mot el. I learned t hat t he regist rat ion clerk, a former airline
st ewardess, had recognized me immediat ely and had t elephoned t he police aft er an hour of
fret t ing and wondering whet her she should get involved.
Only one t hing weighed in my favor, and I didnt know it at t he moment . ORiley, on being
informed t hat I was cornered, had t old t he officers not t o move in on me unt il he arrived t o t ake
charge. ORiley, whom I had met briefly aft er my arraignment , want ed t his collar himself.
But at t he moment I was on t he verge of panic. It was lat e at night , but bot h t he front and
back of t his sect ion of rooms was well light ed. I didnt t hink I could make it t o t he safet y of t he
darkness beyond t he light ed parking areas.
I knew, t hough, t hat I had t o t ry. I slipped on my coat and fled out t he back door, but held
myself t o a walk as I headed for t he corner of t he building. I had t aken only a few st eps,
however, when t wo officers rounded t he corner of t he building. Bot h point ed pist ols at me.
Freeze, mist er, police! one barked in a command right out of a t elevision police drama.
I didnt freeze. I kept walking, right at t he muzzles of t heir guns, whipping out my billfold as I
walked. Davis, FBI, I said, surprised at my own coolness and t he firmness of my voice.
Is ORiley here yet ?
The pist ols were lowered. I dont know, sir, said t he one. If he is, hes around front .
All right , I said crisply. You people keep t his area covered. Ill check and see if ORiley is
here yet .
They st ood aside as I passed t hem I didnt look back. I walked on int o t he darkness beyond
t he parking lot .
Epilogue
Not even t he wiliest fox can elude t he pack consist ent ly, not if t he hounds are persist ent ,
and where Frank Abagnale was concerned t he hounds of t he law were not only persist ent ,
t hey were exceedingly angry. Insult one policeman and you have insult ed all policemen.
Embarrass t he Royal Canadian Mount ed Police and you have embarrassed Scot land Yard.
Humiliat e a t raffic cop in Miami and you have humiliat ed t he California Highway Pat rol. Frank
Abagnale, for years, had insult ed, embarrassed and humiliat ed police everywhere wit h
regularit y and maddening insouciance. And so police everywhere sought him day and night ,
wit hout respit e, and as much t o vindicat e t hemselves as t o serve just ice.
Less t han a mont h aft er Abagnale evaded capt ure in Washingt on, D.C., t wo New York Cit y
det ect ives, munching hot dogs in t heir parked squad car, spot t ed him as he walked past t he
unmarked vehicle and accost ed him. Alt hough he denied his ident it y, wit hin t wo hours
Abagnale had been posit ively ident ified and was given int o cust ody of FBI agent s.
Wit hin weeks, Abagnale was inundat ed wit h st at e and federal complaint s charging forgery,
passing wort hless checks, swindling, using t he mails t o defraud, count erfeit ing and similar
offenses, leveled by aut horit ies in all fift y st at es. Various U.S. at t orneys and st at e prosecut ors
vied for jurisdict ion, each claiming t o have t he most damaging case or cases against t he
prisoner. All t he liens against Abagnale had validit y. Alt hough t he cleverness and int elligence
Abagnale had exhibit ed in t he course of his criminal career was undisput ed, he had been more
bold t han decept ive, more overt t han discreet . A mult it ude of wit nesses was available t o
ident ify Abagnale in one or t he ot her of his roles, t o accuse him in one or t he ot her of his
t ransgressions. Had all t he charges against Abagnale been t ossed int o t he air and one caught
at random, t he evidence in t hat case would have been overwhelming.
Abagnale was not unaware of his predicament and t he knowledge caused him undue
ment al anguish. He knew he was going t o serve t ime in some st at e or federal prison, perhaps
several t erms in several different prisons. He could not expect any American prison t o be as
humane as Malmo Prison. His great fear was t hat he might be incarcerat ed in an American
version of Perpignans House of Arrest . His t repidat ions were not allayed when an arbit rary
decision was made by federal aut horit ies t o bring him t o t rial in At lant a, Georgia. More t han in
any ot her U.S. cit y where officials had cause t o dislike him, Abagnale felt he was least popular
in At lant a.
However, he was represent ed by able counsel, and his lawyer st ruck a bargain wit h t he
Unit ed St at es At t orney t hat Abagnale eagerly endorsed.
In April 1971, Frank Abagnale appeared before a federal judge and pleaded guilt y under Rule
20 of t he Unit ed St at es Penal Code, a plea t hat encompassed all crimes, known and
unknown, t hat Abagnale had commit t ed in t he cont inent al Unit ed St at es, whet her a violat ion
of st at e or federal st at ut es. The presiding judge ent ered an order of nolle prosequi (no
prosecut ion) in all but eight of t he hundreds of charges pending against Abagnale, and
sent enced Abagnale t o t en years on each of seven count s of fraud, t he t erms t o run
concurrent ly, and t o t wo years on one count of escape, t he t erm t o be served consecut ively.
Abagnale was ordered t o serve his t welve years in t he Federal Correct ional Inst it ut ion in
Pet ersburg, Virginia, where he was t aken t hat same mont h. He served four years of his t erm,
working as a clerk in one of t he prison indust ries during t hose years at a salary of 20 per
hour. Three t imes during t hat period, Abagnale applied for parole and each t ime was reject ed.
If we do consider you for parole in t he fut ure, t o what cit y would you like t o be paroled?
Abagnale was asked at one point during his t hird appearance.
I dont know, Abagnale confessed. I would not like it t o be New York, since I feel t hat would
be an unhealt hy environment for me, considering past event s and circumst ances. I would leave
it t o t he parole aut horit ies discret ion as t o where I should be paroled.
Short ly t hereaft er, and for reasons Abagnale has never at t empt ed t o fat hom, he was
paroled t o Houst on, Texas, wit h orders t o report t o a U.S. parole officer t here wit hin sevent y-
t wo hours of his arrival and, if possible, t o find gainful employment wit hin t he same period of
t ime.
Frank Abagnale quickly learned, as do most freed prisoners, t hat t here is a post -prison
penalt y societ y inflict s upon it s convict s. For some, t his penalt y is simply a social st igma, but for
t he majorit y such post -prison punishment comprises much more t han just slurs and slight s.
The ex-convict seeking employment invariably finds his quest much more difficult t han does
t he hard-core unemployed, even t hough he may possess a needed or want ed skill (oft en
acquired in prison). The employed ex-convict is t he first t o lose his job during economic
downt urns necessit at ing worker layoffs. Too oft en, t he very fact t hat he is an ex-convict is
sufficient reason for firing.
Abagnales post -release problems were compounded by t he fact t hat t he bureaucrat
select ed t o supervise his parole was host ile and ant ipat het ic. The parole officer blunt ly
apprised Abagnale of his feelings t oward his ward.
I didnt want you here, Abagnale, t he hard-nosed official t old him. You were forced on me. I
dont like con men, and I want you t o know t hat before we even st art our relat ionship. ... I dont
t hink youll last a mont h before youre headed back t o t he joint . What ever, you had bet t er
underst and t his. Dont make a wrong move wit h me. I want t o see you every week, and when
you get a job, Ill be out t o see you regularly. Mess up, and Im sure you will, and Ill personally
escort you back t o prison.
Abagnales first job was as a wait er, cook and managerial t rainee in a pizza parlor operat ed
by a fast -food chain. He did not inform his employer t hat he was an ex-convict when he applied
for t he job because he wasnt asked. The job was colorless, unexcit ing, and made even less
appealing by t he periodic visit s of Abagnales dour parole officer.
Alt hough he was an exemplary worker, and one oft en ent rust ed wit h t he banking of t he
firms cash receipt s, Abagnale was fired aft er six mont hs when company officials, checking
more closely int o his background in preparat ion for naming him a manager of one of t he chains
shops, learned he was a federal prison parolee. Abagnale wit hin a week found employment as
a grocery st ocker wit h a supermarket chain, but again neglect ed t o t ell his employer t hat he
was an ex-convict . Aft er nine mont hs, Abagnale was promot ed t o night manager of one of t he
firms st ores and t op management officials began t o pay personal at t ent ion t o t he well-
groomed, handsome and personable young man who seemed so zealously dedicat ed t o
company affairs. Obviously he was an execut ive prospect , and t he firms direct ors commenced
t o prepare him as such. Abagnales grooming as a grocery guru, however, abrupt ly ended when
a securit y check disclosed his blight ed past and he again was given t he boot .
In ensuing mont hs, t he discouraging procedure became repet it ively familiar t o Abagnale, and
he began t o cont emplat e a ret urn t o his former illicit lifest yle, feeling now t hat he had a
just ifiable grudge against t he est ablishment . Abagnale might act ually have ret urned t o his
felonious career, as have so many ex-convict s frust rat ed by similar sit uat ions, save for t wo
fort uit ous circumst ances. First , he was removed from t he supervision of his ant agonist ic parole
officer and placed in t he hands of a more rat ional, unbiased st eward. And second, Abagnale
short ly t hereaft er t ook a lengt hy and int rospect ive look at himself, his sit uat ion and what t he
fut ure might or might not hold for him.
I was working as a movie project ionist at t he t ime, Abagnale recalls t oday. I was making
good money, but t here I was, five night s a week, sit t ing in t his small room, wit h not hing t o do,
really, save t o wat ch t he same movie over and over again. I t hought t o myself t hat I was
smart er t han t hat , t hat I was ignoring and wast ing real t alent s t hat I possessed.
Abagnale sought out his parole officer and broached a plan he had formulat ed in t he lonely
project ion boot h. I t hink I have as much knowledge as any man alive concerning t he
mechanics of forgery, check swindling, count erfeit ing and similar crimes, Abagnale t old t he
officer. I have oft en felt since I was released from prison t hat if I direct ed t his knowledge int o
t he right channels, I t hink I could help cert ain people a great deal. For inst ance, every t ime I go
t o t he st ore and writ e a check, I see t wo or t hree mist akes made on t he part of t he clerk or
cashier, mist akes t hat a bum check art ist would t ake advant age of. I have concluded t hat it is
simply a lack of t raining, and I know I can t each people who handle checks or cash vouchers
how t o prot ect t hemselves against fraud and t heft .
Wit h t he blessings of his parole officer, Abagnale approached a suburban bank direct or,
out lined what he had in mind and det ailed his background as a mast er bilker of banks. At t he
moment I have no slide present at ions or anyt hing, said Abagnale. But Id like t o give a lect ure
t o your employees for one hour aft er closing. If you t hink my lect ure is wort hless, you owe me
not hing. If you t hink it is beneficial, you pay me $50 and make a couple of calls t o friends you
have in ot her banks t o t ell t hem what you t hink about my t alk and what Im doing.
His first appearance as a whit e-collar crime specialist led t o anot her appearance at a
different bank, and t hen t o anot her and yet anot her. Wit hin mont hs Abagnale was in
widespread demand by banks, hot els, airlines and ot her businesses.
Today, t hree years lat er, Frank Abagnale is one of t he nat ions most popular crime
aut horit ies, wit h offices in bot h Houst on and Denver, a highly-t rained st aff, and gross revenues
approaching $3 million. He st ill leads a life on t he fly, const ant ly criss-crossing t he nat ion t o
present seminars, give lect ures or t o appear on various t elevision panels. Frank Abagnale leads
a very sat isfying life.
More import ant ly, he now realizes why he first embarked on a criminal voyage and why he is
not now adrift on t hat dismal cruise.
If I did not do what I do t odayif I had st ayed a pizza cook, a grocery execut ive or a movie
project ionist I might very well be back in prison t oday, Abagnale muses. Why? Because
t heres no glamour, no excit ement , no advent ure and not hing t o fulfill my ego in t hose
vocat ions.
What I do t oday, on t he ot her hand, fulfills all my needs. I get up in front of t housands of
people, and I know t heyre list ening t o what I say. That s an ego t rip. I appear on dozens of
t elevision programs annually. To me, t hat s a glamorous life. It s an advent uresome life,
because Im const ant ly being challenged by whit e collar criminals who come up wit h new
gimmicks t o defraud client sand I know t heyre out t o put me down as much as t hey are t o
make a bundle.
Act ually, I havent changed. All t he needs t hat made me a criminal are st ill t here. I have
simply found a legal and socially accept able way t o fulfill t hose needs. Im st ill a con art ist . Im
just put t ing down a posit ive con t hese days, as opposed t o t he negat ive con I used in t he past .
I have simply redirect ed t he t alent s Ive always possessed. Today, if I walked int o a crowded
room and want ed t o impress t he people t herein, I could impress t hem more by saying, Im
Frank Abagnale, t he impost or, t han if I were t o be t he old Frank Abagnale, posing as a pilot , a
doct or or what ever.
Frank Abagnale, in realit y, is st ill a bumblebee personalit y, flying where he isnt supposed t o
fly at all, and making a pot of honey on t he side.

Table of Contents
1 The Fledgling
2 The Pilot
3 Fly a Crooked Sky
4 If Im a Kid Doct or, Wheres My Jar of Lollipops?
5 A Law Degree Is Just an Illegal Technicalit y
6 Paperhanger in a Rolls-Royce
7 How t o Tour Europe on a Felony a Day
8 A Small Crew Will DoIt 's Just a Paper Airplane
9 Does This Tab Include t he Tip?
10 Put Out an APBFrank Abagnale Has Escaped!
Epilogue
Back Cover/Phot ographs